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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28984002">Scarred in Ink</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/tomridswhorcrux/pseuds/tomridswhorcrux'>tomridswhorcrux</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Dark, Alternate Universe - Harry Potter Setting, Alternate Universe - Voldemort Wins, Betrayal, Character Death, Dark Mark (Harry Potter), Dark Mark Removal (Harry Potter), Death Eaters, Depression, Drinking, Drugs, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Mature Audience, Mental Health Issues, Smut, lowkey enemies to lovers, slight slow burn</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 09:14:25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>7</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>29,052</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28984002</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/tomridswhorcrux/pseuds/tomridswhorcrux</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>What if Hermione took the mark to save her friends?</p><p>Hermione takes The Dark Mark to save Ron, Ginny, and essentially Harry, but is it worth it? It goes against everything she has ever fought for, yet she feels gravitated towards the things and people she shouldn’t.</p><p>A dark Dramione AU where Hermione’s judgement and morals are put into perspective and tested to their limits.</p><p>[on a hiatus]</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Hermione Granger &amp; Draco Malfoy</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>~*~</p><p>~Hello! I just want to start off by saying thank you for wanting to read my story!~</p><p>Before we get into it, here are some warnings regarding topics in this story. If you don’t like/are triggered any of these I encourage you to not read. For very graphic scenes there will be extra warnings and notions if you would like to not read those parts. These aren’t here to scare you, I just want you to be prepared :)</p><p>[Also if I forgot any triggers, list them here and I will add them to the list!]</p><p>-overall dark themes</p><p>-talks and notions of depression/mental health issues (sh warning’s will be above chapters that contain them so you do not have to read if you feel uncomfortable) {Also remember you are loved and here for a reason, if you need to vent, I, and many others are here for you :)}</p><p>-drug and alcohol use (don’t do drugs kids)</p><p>-psychological pain/trauma inflicted upon characters</p><p>-sexual contents/notions </p><p>Another thing - the characters and outline of the wizarding world all belong to J.K. Rowling. Some spells and such are of my creation and you are all welcome to use them in your story! Just give credit where credit is due! (All the spells that are from my brain will be listed here in case you are unsure)</p><p>-Signum suae tenebras - spell that embeds the dark mark into ones arm</p><p>-Sapiobidium gravitas - contraceptive charm</p><p>-Insistodolare - pain relief charm</p><p>This is a slowburn, lowkey enemies to lovers type beat, so don’t be wishing for smut in chapter ten, it ain’t gonna happen.</p><p>Dates to know - this will follow a headcanon timeline so here are dates of things that happen in the books/movie that I’ve moved around (the ages and birthdays of characters are still canon)</p><p>-Battle of Hogwarts - March 26th, 2000</p><p>-Beginning of The Second Wizarding War - June 23rd, 1996</p><p>-Infiltration of the Ministry - November 2nd, 1997</p><p>-Hermione and Harry on the run - July 1st, 1996 - April 11th, 1998</p><p>-Ron on the run with Harry and Hermione - July 1st, 1996 - January 14th, 1997, February 27th, 1998 - April 11th, 1998</p><p>-Capture of the trio/skirmish at Malfoy Manor - April 11th, 1998 </p><p>-Dumbledore’s death - June 23rd, 1996 - at the hands of Death Eater, Draco Malfoy</p><p>-Hermione’s Wand - This isn’t a date but for the story her wand will have a unicorn hair core instead of a dragon heartstring core. Everything else about her wand will remain the same.</p><p>~Anyways, happy reading :)~</p><p>
  <b>Chapter 1</b>
</p><p>~</p><p><b>The Night Circus</b> - Erin Morgenstern</p><p>~</p><p>
  <i>“Good and evil are a great deal more complex than a princess and a dragon...is not the dragon the hero of his own story?”</i>
</p><p>~</p><p>
  <b>April 11th, 1998</b>
</p><p>Hermione feels a searing, soul-wrenching pain as Bellatrix’s knife sinks its way into her flesh. The magical blade never ceases the agony that she is enveloped in. It consumes her and her every thought. She screams and screams. Her eyes are overrun with tears that run down her cheeks. The tears form a puddle on the floor. Her ears are filled with the sounds of Bellatrix’s shrill cackle. That high pitched sound permeating through Hermione’s ears and into her brain, cementing the memory in her mind's eye forever.</p><p>In her pained haze she manages to look down at her arm. Through the mess of tears and chaos she can make out the word <i>mudblood</i> carved in her pale flesh. The branding bleeds a dark crimson. The blood creates a shine as the silver blade refracts the light.</p><p>“Bella! That’s enough,” she hears another voice say, unable to make out who, as Bellatrix’s gut-wrenching shriek still rings in her ears.</p><p>Hermione blinks her eyes a few times to try and erase some of the tears off her face. Her whole body is paralyzed, save for her head. Her vision clears and as it does she sees Voldemort standing before her. </p><p>She wiggles her head around seeing that only she and Voldemort remain in the Malfoy Manor drawing room. A panic sets into her bones. Crawling and itching up her spine, holding her in place, even though she is already paralyzed. She tries to compose her features, but Voldemort has already gotten a good look at the fear that his presence has brought over Hermione.</p><p>“Don’t be so scared,” Voldemort drawls, pacing around her, “I have a proposal.”</p><p>All Hermione can think to do is stare straight ahead. Even with Voldemort stopping his paces right in front of her, she does not dare to meet his gaze. Those milky eyes harbor a pained feeling. One that rips her from herself with only the thoughts of her friends who have suffered at his hand cloud her vision. </p><p>Voldemort gives a low laugh, Hermione’s face remains as unphased as it can. “I want you to take the mark.” Hermione’s eyes shoot open. She would’ve never guessed that this was his idea of a proposal. Voldemort, wanting a <i>mudblood</i> to bear his mark. The one that signifies blood supremacy and the death of others like her.</p><p>“What?” Hermione croaks. She is surprised that she is even able to speak after what just happened. Her body must be running on shock and adrenaline, the only things keeping her lucid and remotely functioning.</p><p>“I think the Gryffindor Golden Girl could be of great use to me,” Voldemort starts, resuming his paces, “<i>Especially</i>, if I spare your friends.” Hermione’s head darts to where Voldemort is standing, which is right beside her right. She sees a smile curl on the leader's lips as a look of ‘I’ll do whatever’ is splayed upon her features. “Ron?” The witch softly asks. “Yes, Ron. I’ll even throw in his sister, Ginevra,” Voldemort responds, seeing that he has struck a nerve with the brave Gryffindor. </p><p>“I’ll take it.”</p><p>Hermione says her verdict with such fervor. A pleading tone is evident in her voice as her body comes down from it’s adrenaline rush. She wants the pain in her arm to cease and her friends to be safe. She would do <i>anything</i>for them.</p><p>Hermone’s eyes roll slightly back into her head as the sensation of her branding begins to creep up again. That dull, itching pain in her arm. She is even just considering the mark for the fact that, hopefully, that pain will override her current one. She remembers when the Slytherin’s would hide in their rooms, ditching class, meals, and every quidditch match to be able to try and escape the agonizing pain in their arms.</p><p>“Well, that took a lot less persuading than I thought,” Voldemort chuckles, “Just so you know, there is a catch.” Hermione takes a quick inhale as The Dark Lord says his last line. A catch is something she should’ve expected, but her brave, impulsive, red-and-gold infused brain was too overrun with the fact that she could help her friends by just getting a tattoo on her arm.</p><p>“You will be a spy for me.”</p><p>How could Hermione do this? She thought she was doing the right thing by putting her friends first, but in doing that she put the whole Order in jeopardy. The sinking feeling of guilt and dread coursing through her veins. Spidering it’s way up her capillaries and sinking into her heart. Hermione feels her chest tighten, her breath becomes less fulfilling. It feels as if the weight of her actions is pressing down on her chest.</p><p>Hermione lowly nods her head in response and watches Voldemort’s face contort in glee. “Now, don’t think of this as a double agency. I’ll know if you give any information to your beloved Order,” Voldemort says as he strides towards her. </p><p>Voldemort’s hand grabs Hermione’s left arm. His bony, cold, phalanges drape in blood as her branding from earlier is still making its presence known. Hermione is tempted to look away, shield herself from the marking process, but her head won’t move. It’s not like she’s paralyzed, instead, the devil on her shoulder is telling her to ‘watch and learn’. </p><p>Maybe if she had the mark herself she could help find a way to get them off. She knows that it’s damn near impossible considering the amount of Death Eaters that have come to St. Mungos with half their arm cut off. Bleeding and bleeding—and then bleeding some more as the dark magic infused into their skin has also been fused with the rest of them. The mark realizes it’s host is revolting, so it supplies a ‘checkmate’.</p><p>Voldemort brings the elder wand up to Hermione’s forearm, digging the jagged wood into her alabaster complexion. The stark contrast between the deep crimson of the blood, the dark wood of the wand, and the ghost-like appearance of her skin from being on the run for almost a year forms an arresting image in her mind. </p><p>“Wait!” Hermione croaks as loud as she can. Voldemort’s eyes trail up from her forearm to her head, those damned milky eyes meeting her bronze ones. Thoughts of her friends, specifically Harry, flash across her mind. It takes all of her effort to not blurt out a string of profanities and choice words at the man in front of her. She takes a breath and tries her best to occlude those thoughts away. “What is it Miss. Granger?” Voldemort hisses. “Won’t they notice my mark?” Hermione quickly responds, not wanting Voldemort to lose his temper on her.</p><p>“That’s what glamour charms are for. We have one specifically formulated so that only fellow Death Eaters can see the snaking mark. But even with those measures, I do not want you on the battlefield. You are to be a strategist, healer, anyone who isn’t on the front lines.”</p><p>Hermione is perplexed at his words. Why would he not want her to be on the front lines? Her Gryffindor tendencies to be in the middle of all the action are being squashed immensely, also by the fact that she is most likely the only Death Eater from a house that <i>isn’t</i> Slytherin. Is he <i>concerned</i> for her safety? The Dark Lord, <i>concerned</i>, for a mudbloods safety. Hermione almost laughs at the thought. “But—But, I’m a mu—mudblood,” Hermione says. The last word takes all her effort to say, the one people have called her to make fun of her and her so-called ‘dirty’ blood. Yet she still decides to use it instead of <i>muggle-born</i>.</p><p>Voldemort scoffs at her concern, “Granger, do you really think that this war is about blood? That was just my campaign mechanism. If a mudblood can get me to the top, by all means, I’ll let them. And you might just be that mudblood.”</p><p>Yes, Hermione has realized by this point that the war was never about blood. But she still can’t shake the thought that the only reason they are here is because of the stupid ideals of pureblood supremicists.</p><p>“Bella! Release the redheads,” Voldemort yells to Bellatrix, who seems to be just outside the drawing room. Hermione hears Bellatrix moan at The Dark Lord’s words. She is most definitely upset that her playthings are being taken away.</p><p>“Now, where were we,” Voldemort hisses, resuming his focus on the witches forearm, “You’ll feel a slight pinch. <i>Signum suae tenebras</i>.”</p><p>A slight pinch, is a wild understatement to the pain that is slithering up Hermione’s arm. She screams with what is left of her vocal chords, only a raspy, guttural sound is able to make it out past her lips. The pain was something Hermione wanted to get rid of, even if it meant replacing it with a worse one. But her judgement has failed her and all she can wish for is for the old pain to be all that she needs to endure. </p><p>Before it was just the pain of her brand, the pain of being unable to help her friends whilst being paralyzed in the Malfoy Manor drawing room. Now, she has the added weight of a new, agonizing, and unfamiliar pain radiating throughout her skin, the whole Order going to shit because of a split second decision that her impulsive self made, as well as the added stress of working for the Slytherins who tormented her through her years in Hogwarts. Tom Riddle trying to kill Harry every chance he could, Draco Malfoy calling her a mudblood every ten seconds, and even Pansy Parkinson berating and snickering at her appearance, especially the lion's mane that adorns her head.</p><p>Too many thoughts and memories to resurface in a time like this. Hermione does her best to occlude them out of her mind and try to focus on the now. The wand in her arm, the wood creating a harsh indent. The black ink squiggling and dancing along her pallor as the signature snake-and-skull design materializes just under her skin.</p><p>The pain then stops, the wand is ripped away from her forearm and the paralyzing spell lifted. She falls into a puddle on the floor, a sobbing, pained, puddle. “Stay the night, I’ll have the Malfoy’s do you up a room. When you report to The Order tomorrow say that we kidnapped and tortured you and you pulled a brave Gryffindor by running away,” Voldemort says down to her just before he drifts away. Her mind becomes blank and she feels her eyelids close as she succumbs to a deep slumber.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>T.W. - panic episode and slight mentions of suicidal thoughts - it’s marked off with squiggles if you do not wish to read that part :)</p>
<p>[Remember that you loved, don’t let any thoughts like those draw you to take harsh actions. I and many others are here if you need to talk :)]</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>April 12th, 1998</p>
<p>Hermione wakes to someone knocking on a door. She hazily opens her eyes and sees that she is entwined in a band of fabric upon a king sized four-poster. She wonders how she got here as she last remembers being on the floor of the Malfoy Manor drawing room. She looks around and notes that she is in a large guest room. </p>
<p>There are high, crown-molded ceilings, a set of living room furniture—complete with a small tea-set on the low table—a door which leads into a bathroom—she can make out a claw-foot tub from her spot on the bed—and a closed door which she suspects leads to a grandiose walk-in closet. </p>
<p>The room is adorned in blacks and greys. The four-poster has jet-black painted wood—as does the dresser against the wall. The walls are a deep, charcoal grey, a striking contrast with the white ceiling and molding. The bedding is the softest she’s ever slept on. The black sheets gently lay on her <i>bare</i> legs. Hermione peels the covers back and sees that she is in a pair of black pajama shorts, and a long-sleeve black tee. The t-shirt reaches to the bottom of her shorts, being <i>way</i> too large on her small frame. The satin shorts fit her very well, but she feels violated. One of these bloody Death Eaters had to undress her and put these clothes on her. </p>
<p>Yes, they could've done it with a charm, but she doesn't think that highly of Voldemort’s ranks. “Granger? You up?” She hears someone ask from beyond the door. She was too busy taking in the sights of her new surroundings that she forgot that a knocking woke her up. Hermione pads over to the looming black wood door. She sees that the door has Victorian style indents, reaching to heights far above her head. </p>
<p>She reaches her hand out and grasps the cold silver handle. She takes a deep breath, preparing to face a random, most likely repulsing, Death Eater—one of <i>her</i> war-mates now. The chill of the handle travels up her arm and down her spine, causing her to involuntarily shudder.</p>
<p>She gathers the courage to turn the handle and sees— <i>Draco</i>. Her eyes widen and then she quickly remembers that she is still in Malfoy Manor. The signature black and grey room should’ve told her as much. She stares intently at the tall Slytherin. His white-blonde hair being the only source of brightness in the dark hallway. Her gaze travels from his hair down to his eyes. </p>
<p>Stormy and grey.</p>
<p>Just as she remembers from her years in Hogwarts. All the times that those eyes squinted in anger calling her <i>mudblood</i>. There is a coldness about them that she doesn't remember. One that closes her off from any emotion that he is feeling. His cold demeanor would be perfect for muggle poker, never giving anyone a tell of his cards. For all the other players would know he could have a winning hand or one that would cause him to lose all the money in his Gringotts vault. </p>
<p>Her eyes then roam down his frame. His chiseled jaw catching her attention as if it were carved from stone by an artist in Ancient Greece. He is wearing a black long-sleeve and black dress-pants. A black belt with a silver snake emblem decorates the top of his trousers. Hermione swears that she notices the shining snake wiggle.</p>
<p>He has a strong, but lean frame. Very pleasing to the eye, she must admit. The perfect seeker build. She wonders if he still plays with his Slytherin buddies. But then decides that his devotion to Voldemort must take up the majority of his time.</p>
<p>“See something you like?” Draco smirks as he catches Hermione’s eyes glide up and down his body. Hermione quickly moves her gaze to his eyes, those dark and stormy orbs, inviting and inciting her to fuel his all-too-extreme ego. “I—I—,“ Hermione starts at a loss for words.</p>
<p>“I’m only joking, Granger,” Draco chuckles. “You should probably head out soon. You know, really <i>hone</i> in on the effect that you were kidnapped and you escaped in the dead of night.”</p>
<p>That’s when she notices it. She is wearing Draco’s shirt. The same black long-sleeve that adorns his seeker-like frame is on her all-too-small body. So, this is the Death Eater that changed her and brought her to this room. These shorts probably belong to Pansy, or maybe even Narcissa. She itches to get out of these Death Eater hand-me-downs and into her jumper and jeans from yesterday. The fabric claws at her skin with hints of dark magic and betrayal.</p>
<p>“Do—do you have my clothes from yesterday?” Hermione asks in a small voice. She decides to stare at the floor instead of Draco’s piercing grey eyes. The feeling of the black floor is much more comforting on her eyes than the harsh stare of her peer. “Yes, in the first drawer,” Draco says, taking his wand out and opening the top drawer of the black painted dresser. </p>
<p>“Here is a scone my mother made. Tea should be in those cups over there,” Draco says, holding out a triangle pastry and pointing to the tea set on the little living room table. Hermione gives a light smile, taking the pastry in her shaking hands.</p>
<p>“Knock on my door when you want to leave. The Dark Lord gave me a portkey for you to use.”</p>
<p>“O—Okay. Which room is yours?” the witch timidly asks. “Oh, right. Sorry, the one to your right,” Draco explains, pointing in the hallway to Hermione’s right. Draco then gives a polite smile and takes off in the direction that he just pointed to. Hermione gently pokes her head in his direction and sees the door next to hers shut close with a soft <i>click.</i></p>
<p>She retreats back into her room, closing the door as softly as she can. Wincing slightly when the handle clicks as the door fully closes. The witch places the scone on the low living room table. Not wanting to touch the pastry in case it or the tea is poisoned. Hermione tip-toes her way over to the drawer that Draco opened for her. In the dark cavity of the wood she sees her jumper, jeans, trainers, and wand all settled neatly as if they were just freshly placed there. </p>
<p>She picks up her wand, inspecting it for any tampering. The wood still looks intact, meaning her unicorn-hair core is undisturbed. The witch always prided herself with her wand, the unicorn-hair core being the least likely to turn to the Dark Arts. But look where that got her. Standing in the guest room of the infamous Malfoy family and bearing the Dark Mark. She sheds a tear at the thought of what a disappointment she must be to her Gryffindor counterparts.</p>
<p>She gave up anything and anyone that she has ever cared about in the hopes of saving them and in the process she only managed to damn them more. She shakes her head at thought, occluding those dreadful thoughts out of her mind and focusing on the now. The pink, wool jumper in front of her. The faded, light blue jeans that are just waiting to be on her thighs. With her wand she undresses herself, not wanting to touch the Death Eater hand-me-downs as if they would taint her more than she already has herself. </p>
<p>The black long-sleeve and stain shorts fold themselves up on top of the black dresser. Hermione keeps her eyes away from the bundle of black threads laying atop the pristine wood. She turns her attention to her pink jumper and quickly shrugs it on. The feeling of the itchy wool on her skin that usually makes her recoil in pain is welcomed as a blessing. The feeling of her own clothes rubbing against her starved and tortured frame is a slice of heaven in the hell that she has found herself in. </p>
<p>She steps into her faded jeans with ease. Her clothing has been fitting looser and looser over the past months as her frame has slimmed down whilst on the run with Harry and Ron. As she is buttoning and belting her jeans she remembers her interaction with Draco earlier. </p>
<p>What perplexes Hermione is that Draco seemed <i>happy</i>? To see <i>her</i>? She even remembers that he didn’t call her mudblood once. She would‘ve thought that the Slytherin would have been <i>aching</i> to use that age old insult on her. His demeanor seemed sincere and polite, yes, he had the best poker-face known to man, but that still didn’t mean that his face was void of <i>all</i> feelings. </p>
<p>The witch decides that this was all Voldemort’s idea, so all of these ‘niceties’ that Draco displayed were purely a setup. She is satisfied with that answer. It makes more sense than that Draco was happy to see the Gryffindor Golden Girl. The girl who always beat him with her marks. Always being at least one point ahead of her Slytherin counterpart. The girl who punched him square in the nose in third year, leaving him in Mme. Pomfrey’s wing for a week whilst his broken bones resituated themselves.</p>
<p>Hermione’s clothing is back to how it should be and she quickly grabs her wand before running down to Draco’s room. She couldn’t leave this manor fast enough. The atmosphere reeked of death, destruction, and Dark Magic. A scent and feeling that she would have to become acquainted with if she valued her life, even an ounce. She reaches the enigmatic Slytherins door and lightly taps the dark wood with her knuckles. The feeling of the smooth paint on her bones gives her something to focus on instead of the feeling around her. </p>
<p>She is barely done with her first tap as Draco pulls the door open. It was as if he was standing there waiting for the witch. “You should eat before you go,” Draco says. “How did you—,“ Hermione starts, questioning how the Death Eater knew that she hadn’t eaten. He left and didn’t come back all whilst she got dressed.</p>
<p>“It was a wild guess. Let me guess, you think my mother and I are trying to poison you?” the Slytherin says with a hint of the sarcasm that practically drooled off of him in Hogwarts. </p>
<p>“I didn’t mean—.”</p>
<p>“It’s okay, just know that is not my or my mothers intention. The Dark Lord would kill us if we poisoned his prized mud—muggle-born,” Draco says. Hermione’s thoughts catch on the fact that the pureblood supremacist couldn’t or <i>wouldn’t</i> say mudblood. It was almost as if the word was a profanity that you heard when you were younger. Not daring to speak it unless a jammed toe caused you to blurt out the first word that came to mind.</p>
<p>“Oh.” Is all Hermione can manage as the weight of Draco’s words, or lack there of cloud her thoughts.</p>
<p>“Well, I can’t make you eat, but here’s the portkey. It’ll take you two streets over from Grimmauld Place,” Draco says, handing Hermione a silver coin with a snake engraved on the front. “Oh, and if you ever need to, and can’t apparate, this will take you to the front of the manor from wherever you are.”</p>
<p>Hermione wonders as to why Draco would add that last bit. Why would he want, no better yet, invite her to come knocking at his door? This Draco is a lot different than the one she knew at Hogwarts. He is cold and calculated, but unbelievably polite and civil towards her. The witch cannot seem to wrap her head around why Draco is acting the way he is. Her over analytical brain makes sure to figure out every person she meets and this one, she can’t seem to grasp.</p>
<p>“Thank you, Draco,” Hermione says, her hands grip the silver metal for dear life. She notices Draco’s jaw slightly tense at the sound of his name rolling off her tongue. It even takes her a second to realize what she just said. She had called him Draco instead of the usual Malfoy, or if it’s a special occasion <i>loathsome cockroach</i> was a good second choice. “You should be off, Granger.”</p>
<p>And with Draco’s parting words, Hermione puts her mind to Grimmauld Place and the coin twists and turns her away to the safe house. Wait— how did the Death Eaters know where Grimmauld Place was? Her mind begins to race through every other safe house that the Death Eaters could have access to, unbeknownst to The Order. She wanted to take the coin back to Draco and ask him the questions running at lightning-speed through her head, but she had already landed two streets over from Grimmauld Place, just like the Slytherin said.</p>
<p>She regains her bearings, occluding her questions away and focusing on the cold metal coin in her hand. Her fingers dance over the snake engraving, feeling every groove and scale along the creature's body. She takes in a deep breath before pocketing the coin and running to Grimmuald place. Trying to ‘hone in on her escaping in the dead of night effect’ as Draco said. She tries to contort her features into a panic and starts to run even faster to try and create a sweat for it to seem as though she has been running for kilometers.</p>
<p>She reaches the door of Number Twelve Grimmauld Place and mutters the password. It is much like the one for the Hogwarts dormitories, a password has to be said before the door opens itself. But instead of a painting, the password bearer is a little stone frog on the stoop. Hermione has taken to naming the little frog, Ribbs. </p>
<p>Everyone else thought she was being crazy for naming the bodyguard. Nevertheless she still shook them off, believing that everything and everyone should have a name. A name gives something or someone an identity. Even if it is just a series of numbers, like in a prison, those are the things that identify someone or something.</p>
<p>“Thank you, Ribbs!” Hermione softly says to the frog. Ribbs gives a ribbit in response, leaving Hermione to let out a soft chuckle as the frog opens the door for her. As she is fully inside the safe house, Ribbs closes the door behind her, leaving the Death Eaters and memories of cold hands against her skin outside. </p>
<p>She is quickly brought out of that blissful trance when her left forearm begins to tingle. She lifts her sleeve, the reminder of <i>both</i> her brandings stare at her. Egging her on to grimace and seethe at their presence. She notices the snake on her arm slither up to her wrist before retreating back to its original, dormant, position.</p>
<p>“Hermione!” The witch hears a voice call from the end of the hall. She quickly pulls her sleeve back down. Even though Voldemort said that there is a glamour on her mark, she still is self conscious to have her arm in plain view.</p>
<p>“Ron!” Hermione sighs in relief. The burley redhead brings her into a warm, strong hug. “We were so worried about you. Are you alright?” Ron asks, pulling away from the hug to inspect her. “I’m fine, Ron. I was able to escape in the night. Dolohov is a terrible night guard,” the witch smiles. Her secret eating away at her consciousness. Looking at Ron, and seeing him healthy and alive makes her feel a bit better about her decision. But it still doesn't make her any less of a spy.</p>
<p>“ ‘Mione!” Hermione hears another redhead say. This one with a higher pitched voice and longer ginger locks. “Gin!” Hermione says, thankful to see her other friend safe and sound, just like Voldemort had promised. “They didn’t hurt you did they? Oh, no they did. What’s wrong ‘Mione? Was it crucio?—“ Ginny says with her words flying out of her mouth at a hundred kilometers a second. “Ginny, slow down. I’m okay.—I promise,” the witch says with a smile, holding her pinky out to perform a ‘pinky promise’ with her best friend.</p>
<p>“Sorry, I—I was just worried.” The redhead girl solemnly says, taking Hermione’s pinky. Hermione reaches her arms up to stretch them out, the running from earlier made them stiff. “Miss Granger,” Hermione hears a familiar monotone drawl say. She looks over and sees Snape in the hall with her and the redheads. </p>
<p>She notices the man's gaze floating up her left arm, she looks up and sees the mouth of the snake peeking out from under her jumper. Hermione lets out an audible gasp before quickly bringing her arms back to her side. She had forgotten that Snape was also a Death Eater, meaning that he could see her mark. All Hermione could do was brush it off and hope Snape hadn’t seen anything. Although she fully knew the man had seen the inky snake on her skin.</p>
<p>~~~</p>
<p>Hermione’s cheeks begin to flush and she feels a heat radiating throughout her body. The witch's betrayal and embarrassment feuling a panic attack. She feels her throat  start to close and her breathing become restricted. Her heartbeat soars through the roof. The rhythmic thumps of her heart pounding in her ears. Her eyes go wide and all she can feel is panic. </p>
<p>She let down The Order, she put her friends' lives over the lives of every muggle-born, she is wanted by Voldemort, and she let him have her, brand her with a snaking serpent crawling up and down her arm. All she wants is to go back to Malfoy Manor, at least everyone there knows that she’s untouchable and feels the same dread as she does. The mark enslaving them to their master. The black ink separating them from the rest, their arms radiating pain and cowardness. </p>
<p>It's too much for the witch to handle. She runs out of Grimmauld Place and sits on the porch, right next to her only friend, it seems, Ribbs. “Ribbs, I—can’t—,“ Hermione pants, her throat still blocked by the panic that courses through her. <i>Ribbit</i> the frog responds.</p>
<p>~~~ </p>
<p>And at the little creature's sound, Hermione can feel her throat opening, her heartbeat slowing down, and her thoughts coming back to normal. She takes a few slow breaths, trying to keep the calm that just coursed through her. She grounds herself by focusing on the chill of the early morning air, the rough concrete under her palms, the bobbing of Ribbs little head. Once she has regained some semblance of herself she occludes all her doubts and worries to the back of her mind.</p>
<p>Hermione and Ribbs sit in silence for a few moments, the frog sensing that the witch just needs to be and doesn't want to talk. “Ribbs, can you lock the door for a while?” Hermione asks the stone, turning to face him. Ribbs gives a nod and hops over to the door. The frog takes a tiny, gold key from under his hat and places it in the lock that’s at his level. Hermione gives a low laugh at her friend. The fact that this little guy is what keeps her and the others feeling safe. His tiny key keeping them in and the Death Eaters out.</p>
<p>Hermione is finally able to breathe again, and as she is, she takes in the crisp morning air. Feeling the cold shrill up her nose and down her throat as she takes a deep breath. The air feuling her and making her feel whole again. She shifts her hands so that she can lay back on them, her eyes move to stare at the dawning sky. The magical hues of pinks, purples, and oranges paint the sky as if it was a canvas created by Merlin himself. The serene morning grounds her thoughts as all she can hear is leaves crumpling in the morning wind.</p>
<p>“Ribbs, can I tell you something? I know all you can do is ribbit, so you can’t tell anyone, but can you please keep it a secret?” Hermione says, turning her head to face Ribbs. The little frog gives a nod and the witch resumes staring at the sky.</p>
<p>“I think I did something horrible,” Hermione starts. Ribbs’s beady eyes are watching Hermione intently as she spills her thoughts out. The little frog nodding and <i>ribbiting</i> when appropriate. “I’m pretty sure I put all my friends in danger. I thought I was getting them out of danger, but it has proved wrong. I’m now branded to someone with ideals that I can’t stand. Someone who said that they'd protect me, that they need me to help them. Is it selfish that I want to be needed?” Hermione turns to her companion and he shakes his head no, giving a reassuring <i>ribbit.</i> She returns her bronze eyes to the sky.</p>
<p>“I mean, yes I have Harry, Ron, Ginny, Molly, the list goes on. But everyone is always enamoured with Harry’s scar or Ron’s strategy. I’m always in the background, offering help and ideas, but everyone brushes them off. Merlin, I got this for them,” the witch says, pulling up her left sleeve, even though she knows that Ribbs can’t see the inking brand, “And they can’t, and probably never will, know what I sacrificed, or lack thereof, for them. I put the whole Order in jeopardy for Ron and Ginny. Well, Harry as well since he was ‘unidentifiable’. But that doesn't make what I did okay.</p>
<p>“And Draco, he was nice to me. The whole of Voldemort’s army was after I took the mark. Bellatrix even apologized to me in a letter that I found on the dresser. Is it bad that I want to go back to those bloody Death Eaters? Just, well, <i>c’est la vie,</i> I guess.” </p>
<p>Ribbs gives an understanding <i>ribbit</i> before Hermione speaks again, “Thank you, Ribbs. I know you can most likely not understand me, but thanks for listening and not berraiting me like they would. It’s not that they are evil—it’s just—they wouldn’t understand what happened. Well, not that you do either, but you are an ear to yell into.” Hermione says as she gets up from the stoop. She gives Ribbs a little boop on his head and he opens the door to Number Twelve Grimmauld Place, understanding every word of what the witch had just told him.</p>
<p>~</p>
<p>“Hermione? Are you okay?” Ginny asks Hermione as she walks into the safe house again. “Yeah, sorry,” Hermione says with her eyes to the ground. The witch looks up and sees that only she and Ginny are in the hallway. The fellow Death Eater nowhere to be seen.</p>
<p>“Here,” Ginny starts, putting her hand out for Hermione to take, “let’s take you to our room.” Hermione gives a light nod and Ginny pulls her along the never ending hallway of Number Twelve Grimmauld Place. The paintings on the wall look at her with less disgust than they usually do. The witch wonders if they could see her mark if her sleeve slid up.</p>
<p>She points her eyes to the ground so she doesn't have to look at the vile people that she is now branded to. The dark walls feel like they are closing in on her if she stares down the hall for too long. So she instead focuses on the red carpet below her feet. The way her trainers have to awkwardly balance on the plush surface.</p>
<p>In her vision she sees the first step of the stairs creep up. She lifts her leg to the step and realizes how heavy her leg feels. It feels as if a weight is added to it, Hermione knows that there is a weight she bears, but was hoping her moping could hold off till nightfall. “They did use crucio! Here, grab my arm and the railing,” Ginny starts, her hands and arms floating around to help Hermione reach the second floor. “The recovery is horrible, I’ll get my mother or Snape to whip you up some revitalizing potion.”</p>
<p>“Not Snape,” Hermione quickly chokes out. She can’t bear to be near that man, especially since she has a strong feeling that he knows what she is. She fears that he would try to poison her, just like how the Malfoy’s tried. An aching feeling of dread fills her at the mention of the fellow Death Eaters name. “Oh, okay. Umm—I’ll get my mum to brew it for you,” Ginny reassures.</p>
<p>The pair finally reach the second floor, being careful to not wake Sirius’s mother from her slumber. That sure would put Hermione in a better mood if that witch started blurting expletives at her. All in different combinations of <i>filthy blood in my house! Blood traitors! Mudblood, get out! How could you do this to your mother, Sirius!</i></p>
<p>Hermione slightly giggles at the thought. She wonders if the curtain was lifted on the use-to-be matriarch of the house, would she be less sour to her like the other paintings? Would she praise the mudblood for turning herself over to the right side of history? But, to say the least, Hermione would like to keep those questions unanswered.</p>
<p>Ginny guides Hermione back to their room. The redhead has one hand in Hermione’s and one on the small of her back. Hermione is thankful for Ginny, she has no remote clue what happened and is allowing her her space. If Harry was here he would no doubt be interrogating her as if she was a serial killer who murdered half the wizarding population.</p>
<p>Wait—what she’s branded to wants to get rid of half the wizarding population. Which makes her as much of a killer as the ones who’ve casted the unforgivable. No—No—The witch will not think like that, what’s been done is done, all she can do now is try to make the future better.</p>
<p>Hermione takes a deep breath and occludes those thoughts away, focusing on Ginny’s warm touch. Her hands softly, yet strongly holding her up. The way the youngest redhead smiles at her as she thinks that Hermione was cruciod. Hermione almost wishes she was cruciod. </p>
<p>She wouldn’t have to deal with this double life. One where Death Eaters are nice to her, almost praising her. And another where she is the Gryffindor Golden Girl who would do anything to save her Order and friends. The bright witch who would pour over books for hours, trying to find the best route to defeat Voldemort and his followers. </p>
<p>And now, she is one.</p>
<p>“Here, lay down. I’ll have my mother come check on you in a bit.” Ginny says, motioning for the witch to lie on the pink twin in the far corner of the room. Hermione trudges over to the bed and sits on the edge. She takes a deep breath before throwing her legs over top of the bedding. Laying on top of her pink comforter and blanket. Her plush, white pillow invites a sense of calm and homeliness in her as her head lays back, her unruly curls provide an extra layer of comfort. She hasn’t lied on this bed in this room in over a year, since she and Harry have been on the run. </p>
<p>Hermione’s mind wanders to her night at Malfoy Manor, those <i>amazingly</i> soft sheets. The ones they have here at Grimmauld are itchy and uninviting. She can feel the threads poking at her bare hands and neck. She would’ve expected this to be an inviting feeling, one that elicits pure joy and bliss, much like how her itchy wool jumper gave her a slice of heaven. But all she wants to do is leave and go back to Malfoy Manor where she doesn't have to lie and spy on The Order.</p>
<p>The witch is left alone as Ginny closes the door, leaving her to her thoughts. She is thankful and filled with dread at the same time. If she is left alone with her thoughts she is bound to go into a state of thinking about what a disappointment she must be. But if she is with the others she has the same thoughts, lying to and betraying them right under their noses. </p>
<p>Hermione does her best to occlude, but there is only so much she can bury down before it rises to the surface again. Creating a Hermione that not even the witch herself wants to see jump out. “Oh, dear,” she hears Molly start as the older woman opens the door to her and Ginny’s room, “Gin told me of the crucio, I made some revitalizing potion for you.” </p>
<p>The older witch pads over to the edge of Hermione's bed, pouring a shot glass full of the potion. Molly hands it to Hermione, but the Golden Girl can’t take it. She fears that Snape has told them all of her betrayal and that the potion is a way to poison her.</p>
<p>The witch highly doubts that these notions are true, but they can’t help but creep their way into her mind. “Snape didn’t help make it,” Molly tries to reassure. “I know that you must be harboring some ill-will towards the man, which is understandable since his comrades tortured you.”</p>
<p>~~~</p>
<p>Hermione wishes she could tell Molly that that is not why she is apprehensive, but she just nods along. She takes the potion, hoping that it can try and clear her mental anguish between the angel and devil on her shoulders. And if it is poison, she at least won’t have to be a disappointment to The Order any longer. </p>
<p>~~~</p>
<p>“Thank you, Molly,” Hermione whispers to the older witch. “I and the others will be in the kitchen if you wish to have some company,” Molly says before giving Hermione a hug and leaving her to her thoughts again.</p>
<p>Hermione stares up at the ceiling, the worn, dark wood reminds her of the dark ambiance of Malfoy Manor. Mind you, Gimmauld is much more dated and unkempt, but the atmosphere has a similar dark vibe. It gives the witch some solace, so she focuses her mind to the early morning she had with the Malfoy’s.</p>
<p>Her mind wanders to the scone that Narcissa had made her, her mouth waters at the thought. She would do anything for that scone right now. Her stomach begins to rumble, but she can’t bring herself to waddle down to the kitchen. Molly said that everyone would be there. That would mean if she wanted a meal she would have to face all the people that she betrayed over the past twelve hours.</p>
<p>She decides to send a patronus to Ginny, to ask her for some chips and tea. The greasy, fried potatoes sound absolutely delectable to her at this moment, especially with a side of ketchup. “<i>Expecto patronum!”</i> The witch says, with her wand pointed at the ceiling. Hermione’s eyes fall as all that comes out of her wand is just a slight mist, nothing remotely resembling her friendly otter.</p>
<p>She conjures another memory in her mind and repeats the process. No luck again. The witch begins to sob. She can’t create a patronus anymore. As the realization hits her she can’t escape the water that rains down her cheeks and on to her pink comforter. She feels as helpless as she did last night whilst Bellatrix was carving into her arm. Dark crimson being the only thing that she could see through her tear-filled eyes.</p>
<p>
  <i>Meow!</i>
</p>
<p>The witch looks over to the ground and sees her fluffy, orange cat. The one that Ron famously despises for trying to eat his rat during their third year. One of her only other friends, besides Ribbs, who can listen to anything she has to say. Hermione sits up on her bed, wiping tears off her cheeks with her rough jumper. The wool scratching at her dry, cracked skin. She slightly winces at the sensation, but relishes in the different pain. It breaks the monotony of her agonizing thoughts and aching arm.</p>
<p>Hermione reaches down to pick up the orange bundle of fur and sits him in her lap. “Oh, Crooks. If you knew the day I’ve been having,” the witch whispers to her beloved cat. Crookshanks <i>meows</i> in response and Hermione lets out a soft chuckle. Just like Ribbs, her fluffy friend seems to be able to understand to her, or at least do a good job at acting like he can.</p>
<p>She brushes her hand across the tangle of fur. Crookshanks’s favorite spot to be pet is right between his ears. The witch’s fingers lightly scratch and pet between the cat's ears, the fur ball emitting several <i>purrs</i> and <i>meows</i> in response. The cat nuzzles up to her chest and Hermione’s thoughts run blank, even if it’s just for a second. A slice of bliss that she hopes to last forever.</p>
<p>“Hermione, here’s some food. Sorry for not getting you some sooner,” Ginny says as she peers into her room, placing a plate of food and a cup of tea on the dark-brown dresser leaning against the wall next to the door. “Just to let you know, Snape has left and won’t be back for a few days, if you want to come into the kitchen.”</p>
<p>Hermione feels a slight weight lift off her shoulders. At least she won’t have to deal with a fellow Death Eater for a few days. She considers going down to the kitchen, she knows that the others can’t see her mark, even if she <i>didn't</i> have long sleeves on, but the thought that she is betraying every person there creeps into her head. She feels it would be wrong to be in the same room as them, even if no war strategies are being hashed.</p>
<p>The witch finally decides to go to the kitchen, seeing her friends and not being alone with her thoughts might be good for her occlumency skills. “I think I’ll join you all downstairs,” Hermione smiles to Ginny. The redhead gives a grin back in her direction, “I’ll bring these down then. Oh, and bring Crooks! Everyone loves seeing him.”</p>
<p>Ginny grabs the food and drink that she brought and heads out the door. Hermione hears a <i>crack</i> and flinches at the sound. She takes a deep breath and gathers her orange fluff ball in her arms before stepping off her bed. The witch then hears  another <i>crack,</i> almost dropping Crooks as she flinches again. </p>
<p>“Oh, sorry, I should’ve silently apparated. Here, let me grab Crooks, hold my arm if you need,” Ginny says as she walks into their room seeing the panicked look on Hermione’s face. </p>
<p>Hermione reluctantly hands her cat to Ginny, not wanting the comfort that he brings her to wash away. The witch grabs onto the redheads arm and the pair, or trio, make their way down the stairs of Number Twelve Grimmauld Place.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The Night Circus - Erin Morgenstern</p>
<p>~</p>
<p>“People are naïve about such things, and they would rather write them off as evil than attempt to understand them. An unfortunate truth, but a truth nonetheless.”</p>
<p>~</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>April 12th, 1998</p>
<p>“Hermione!” Hermione hears Harry say as she walks into the kitchen with Ginny and Crookshanks. Harry jumps up from his seat, running around the end of the table and over to Hermione to envelope her in a warm hug. Much like the one Ron gave her, but Harry is a lot skinnier and bonier than the chess player. She wraps her arms around the boy's waist as his arms are right at her shoulder, locking them in place. </p>
<p>“I’m glad you’re safe. I got so worried when only Ron and Ginny came back. Ron told me that you ran away, good on them for keeping a guard who falls asleep,” Harry jokes.</p>
<p>Harry breaks away from the hug, but not before giving Hermione a tight squeeze that says ‘glad to have you back’. “Yeah, I was surprised to say the least. I was expecting a Death Eater to come and hex me around every corner,” Hermione ‘recounts’.</p>
<p>“Glad they didn’t get our Golden Girl. I don’t know what we would do without you,” the boy with bright green eyes says. Hermione feels a pain in her chest at his words. Little does the chosen one know, they <i>did</i> get their Golden Girl. So much so, that she is now a spy. She also knows that they would go on fine without her, all her ideas get brushed to the side. She’s only there for moral support when they need it. She’s the resident therapist at Number Twelve Grimmauld Place.</p>
<p>“Yeah, I don’t know how long I would’ve lasted there,” Hermione responds, giving a slight smile before finding a seat at the table. She pulls out a tall, dark, dining chair in between Ginny and Remus. The witch snakes her body around her and Ginny’s chair before sitting on the navy cushion. The velvet feels plush and worn against her hands as she sits on them. </p>
<p>Ginny plops Crooks onto Hermione’s lap and her lips curl up in a smile before moving her hands from under her seat to the cat's fur. The pets in her life are a source of comfort. They don’t have sides, they are indifferent. They only want what’s best for their master, but they don’t harbor any ill-will to people on the other side. They don’t <br/>even know the difference between who’s the ‘good’ side and who’s the ‘evil’ side.</p>
<p>“Glad you're safe,” Remus says from next to her, patting her back lightly. Hermione turns her head to face his. The scars running across his face are still ever present and continue to look more damaged every time she looks at them. The war taking its toll on the man’s body.</p>
<p>Hermione smiles in response and turns her attention back to the orange fur ball in her lap. She pets the top of his head and he <i>purrs and meows</i> in response to the witches touch. The cat's head nuzzles itself into the crook of her free arm. She looks up and remembers the meal that Ginny brought to her. It is now sitting in front of her spot at the table and Hermione reaches out a hand to the tea cup.</p>
<p>She notices that her hands aren’t shaking, the revitalizing potion settled her nerves a bit and did not poison her. She takes a sip of tea before she can wonder if it’s been poisoned. The liquid is lukewarm from sitting out for a while, but Hermione welcomes the sensation as it trails down her esophagus with a gracious <i>gulp.</i> </p>
<p>The tea, she can tell, is Earl Grey—her favorite. She also notes that it has the right amount of sugar and honey. Ginny knows her too well, two cubes of sugar and one spoon of honey. The witch smiles at the tasty beverage and quickly takes another inviting sip. The tea is a sweet drug in her pain-filled state.</p>
<p>“Did I make it right?” Ginny asks from her left. Hermione turns to the redhead, “It’s <i>perfect</i>.” Hermione continues to down the Earl Grey goodness until she is tipping the cup back to make sure she gets every last drop. </p>
<p>She sets the cup back down on its saucer with a soft <i>clink.</i> She turns her attention to the plate of food in front of her. Not the chips she was wishing for, but a slice of bread with jam and a hard-boiled egg lay on the delicate Black-family china. She picks up the piece of bread, nibbling at the crust.</p>
<p>“How are you doing, Hermione?” Arthur asks from across the table.</p>
<p>The witch looks up from her food at the Weasley family patriarch before she opens her mouth to answer his question.</p>
<p>“Oh, um—I’m okay.”</p>
<p>Hermione doesn’t know how to answer the question precisely. If she were to tell the truth she would say that she feels absolutely horrible. Little do the people at this table know she betrayed them all in a matter of minutes. One coo from Voldemort that he would save her friends and the girl fell headfirst into his grasp.</p>
<p>“Just know, we are all here if you wanna talk. And if you don’t, which is understandable, we won’t push you,” Arthur reassures to the witch.</p>
<p>Hermione gives the muggle-loving man a brief smile before returning her attention back to the bread in front of her.</p>
<p>The sweet jam is a welcomed taste against her tongue. The sugary grape preserves coat her taste buds. The bread is slightly stale as the reserves for The Order have quickly dwindled. All the shops in Diagon Alley refuse to supply Order members with goods for fear of being tortured by Voldemort. </p>
<p>They have to go to muggle grocers to get food, and even then there are always Death Eaters roaming the muggle streets. Lying in wait to take Order members hostage. Wait—that can be her job. Hermione can do what Voldemort says, by not being in the line of combat, but still helping The Order.</p>
<p>“Hey,” the witch starts. The whole table turns their attention to the Golden Girl. “Could I get the food for this week?” The whole table is surprised at her words. Considering her ordeal everyone would’ve expected her to want to rest the ‘crucio’ effects off for a while.</p>
<p>“Uh—I was going to go in my dog form since the Death Eaters don’t notice me as an Order member,” Sirius says, sitting up in his chair. He leans his forearms on the top of the dark wood table. Rough indents from wear and tear decorate the vintage piece. </p>
<p>“Well—“ Hermione starts. She is unsure how to say that the Death Eaters won’t hurt her, but how does she say that without including the fact that she is a Death Eater as well. “They won’t hurt me.”</p>
<p>“Hermione, you just escaped from their prison. That is <i>exactly</i> what they’ll want to do to you. The Death Eater who brings Voldemort the Gryffindor Golden Girl will be hailed as a hero,” Harry reasons.</p>
<p>“Harry, I know it doesn't make sense, but trust me. I’m the safest option.” The witch gives a smile to Harry, trying to convince him of her plan. “Harry’s right. You fled in the dead of night, they won’t be anything short of despicable to you,” Ron says to the witch, agreeing with Harry,</p>
<p>“Please, just trust me.”</p>
<p>“What are you not telling us?” Sirius asks her. Hermione’s face turns red. Her body is filled with the heat of embarrassment. The reality of what Sirius just asked falls on her. She doesn't know what to say, her heartbeat quickens until a soft <i>purr</i> comes from her lap.</p>
<p>The witch looks down and sees Crookshanks’s little eyes staring up at her. The sight of the creature calms her, her heartbeat slows down. The thumping in her ears fades away. Hermione brings her hand down to the fur ball in her lap. She gently strokes Crookshanks’s orange fur, the lines of hair lightly scratch at her palms. The witch takes in a deep breath as the calm courses through her. She can still feel that her skin is red and hot, but she feels at least composed enough to speak.</p>
<p>“I didn’t just escape,” Hermione starts, “I gave them hell. They know to not mess with the Golden Girl.”</p>
<p>“That seems to me like a good reason to mess with the Golden Girl,” Ron jokes. Hermione turns her head to Ginny who just gives her a soft smile, not asking questions. She is thankful Ginny isn’t on her case, but she still doesn't seem for the idea of Hermione fetching groceries.</p>
<p>Hermione turns back to her food, keeping her head down and not speaking. She still feels as useless as before. Any idea she gives is brushed to the side. She is known as ‘the brightest witch of her age’ yet all of her ideas go in one ear and out the other. </p>
<p>“Ron, can you please trust me?” Hermione pleads.</p>
<p>“ ‘Mione, this isn’t a matter of trust. They will go after you. I and the others at this table will not be responsible for your capture.”</p>
<p>The witch gives up trying to convince her peers. She politely excuses herself from the table, her egg and half her jam-topped bread untouched. She hears the others telling her to come back and eat but it’s all static to her. Crooks’s fur is the only thing she can focus on at that moment. </p>
<p>She races up the stairs, almost tripping on one of the old, creaky, wood steps. She rips her door open and throws herself to her pink twin. With her wand she banishes her outfit to the dresser. She conjures a large, black, long-sleeve tee and black satin sleep shorts. She slips into them, feeling the cold fabric of the shorts against her skin. The large t-shirt provides the witch a comfort like no other. She pulls back her covers and crawls into bed. Her orange fluff ball is nestled in her arms as she drifts to sleep. </p>
<p>Her dreams turn to nightmares as the thought of her friends dying because of her decision wrecks her pattern of deep sleep. She thrashes and whimpers in her sleep, unbeknownst to her. Ginny watches over the pained witch as she writhes in terror, unable to do anything but watch to make sure Hermione doesn't hurt herself.</p>
<p>It is barely the afternoon and the witch is sleeping her pain away. And little does she know, the sleep outfit she conjures is the same one she wore last night at Malfoy Manor. The one thing bringing her comfort is Death Eater hand-me-downs.</p>
<p>~</p>
<p>April 20th, 1998</p>
<p>“I have a letter for you, Miss Granger,” Snape monotones. Hermione feels dread fill her as Snape has come back and the first thing he does is go up the stairs to the second floor of Number Twelve Grimmauld place to deliver her a letter. “Oh.” The witch gets up from her bed and walks over to Snape, who is standing in her and Ginny’s doorway.</p>
<p>“I think you know who it’s from,” Snape drawls, handing her a jet black envelope with a silver wax seal that has the letter ‘V’ stamped into it. Hermione’s eyes go wide as she realizes who the letter is from—Voldemort. This means that Snape knows about her secret. She can’t look up from the silver seal, her eyes not daring to cross paths with the fellow Death Eaters.</p>
<p>“So, you know.” Is all the witch responds with, flipping the letter over to see her name beautifully written across the back of the envelope. It was as if a master calligrapher took a silver quill and began to write. “Yes.”</p>
<p>There is a silence between the two as Hermione processes that Snape knows about her arm, about what she’s done to The Order, what she selfishly sacrificed for her friends. Her damn Gryffindor tendencies get her into trouble left and right, but now it's not just a detention from Snape or Umbridge that she would have to face. Now it's her friend's lives.</p>
<p>“You know I didn’t mean for—“ Hermione starts before Snape quickly cuts her off. “I am not upset with you—You did what you felt was right. Even <i>perfect</i> Gryffindors make their mistakes.”</p>
<p>“I—I—You’re right—But—why are you okay with this?” The witch asks the black haired gentlemen.</p>
<p>“Because my arm bears the same brand.”</p>
<p>Snape pulls up his left sleeve to reveal the same slithering black tattoo on his skin. </p>
<p>“Our lives should not be judged by choices we <i>have</i> made—For, our lives should be judged on the choices we <i>continue</i> to make.”</p>
<p>Hermione is in pure awe at the man's words. She is surprised at the man's acceptance of her arm, her choices. But is more intrigued by the man's outlook on humanity. Snape's quote runs through her mind until he pulls his sleeve back down and retreats from her and Ginny’s room.</p>
<p>Hermione’s mind focuses on the letter in her hands. The jet-black envelope with a silver seal. She hastily pops the seal off and sifts the parchment out of the envelope. The parchment crinkles as her hands grip the edges to read it’s contents. A large grouping of ink-black words dance on the page.</p>
<p>
  <i>Hermione—my prized mudblood,</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>Now that you are adjusted to my mark, I have a task for you. Remember, you are a spy. I want you to apparate to the edge of Refel Lake on April the 27th at 5am sharp. There is a log cabin on the edge of the lake. It will be your reporting point. It is warded, so don’t try and bring anyone with you.</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>I will send one of my other Death Eaters to meet you there. They will arrive with a letter for your next task. You will have to gather all the information you can before that date. Put it all in a letter, much like this one, and bring it with. Don’t lie, my Death Eaters are very skilled in legilimency. They will know if you omitted or falsified any information.</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>Your royal leader,</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>The Dark Lord</i>
</p>
<p>Hermione’s eyes scan the page, rereading it multiple times. The words never moved or changed, as she wished they would. She remembers Refel Lake, she and Harry had camped out near there during their time on the run. She doesn't remember seeing a cabin there, but as Voldemort said, it was warded. Most likely only Death Eaters could see it.</p>
<p>Hermione quickly burns the letter, not wanting evidence that she is a Death Eater laying around. She wants to ask Snape a few questions, but she can’t bring her feet to move from where they are planted. Voldemort’s words etched themselves into the witches brain. </p>
<p>Hermione figures out that she has precisely one week until her meeting with a fellow Death Eater. She is to be at Refel Lake on Monday, April 27th. Hermione doesn't have an idea as to what she will put in her letter to Voldemort. There hasn’t been much war strategizing going on. </p>
<p>The Order is trying to play it safe, build up their numbers before delivering a skirmish. They’ve already lost a number of lives, young and old, muggle and magical. She usually doesn't listen in on Order meetings either, every idea she ever has is stuck down, so she sees no point in going. But she might have to start.</p>
<p>“Are you okay? You look as though you’ve seen a ghost?” Ginny asks as she appears at the pair's door. Hermione blinks her eyes, returning to the present. It takes her a minute to remember what Ginny said. “Oh, yes, I’m fine.”</p>
<p>“You know you can talk to me. You've been—<i>distant</i>— since the manor. I know they cruciod and tortured you, but you shouldn’t keep all that bottled up,” Ginny says, trying to comfort the Golden Girl. Oh how Hermione wishes she could talk to Ginny. The youngest redhead has not even an inkling of what really happened at the manor. </p>
<p>Hermione doesn't know which is worse. Her friends thinking that she was tortured helpless then miraculously ran away. Or her knowing that she was turned into a Death Eater that night and spent her sleeping hours in a grandiose guest room at Malfoy Manor.</p>
<p>“Yes, Ginny. You’ve been a good friend, but there really isn’t much to talk about,” Hermione smiles. </p>
<p>“Okay, well, just know that I’m here.”</p>
<p>Hermione gives a curt nod at Ginny’s words and the redhead continues her way down the hall, most likely heading to Harry’s room. The two lovers have been spending a lot of time together since the trio has gotten back. Hermione is happy that they have something to be in this war for. The Golden Girl has no clue what she is in this war for anymore.</p>
<p>Any lines she had have been blurred, now, barely even a mark on the page. She wants to protect her friends, but she also values her own life. Yes, she may be a brave Gryffindor, but that doesn't mean that she has no regard for her life. And—yes—she wants the pain to end, but that does not mean that the witch wants to die in this war. She would much rather go out on her own terms, than ones that she has no control over.</p>
<p>Hermione closes the door to her and Ginny’s room and goes to lay down on her pink twin.</p>
<p>~</p>
<p>April 22nd, 1998</p>
<p>“Harry?” Hermione asks her four-eyed friend. Harry glances up from his meal, nodding for the witch to continue. “When’s the next Order meeting?”</p>
<p>“You want to be in on them again?” Harry asks. Hermione takes a sip from her tea cup filled with Earl Grey as she contemplates how to answer that question. The witch decides on, “Yeah, I want to try and get back into things.”</p>
<p>“Well, there’s one tonight at ten. Just to let you know, Snape will be there. I know how you’ve been avoiding him lately.”</p>
<p>“It’s okay. I’ve—<i>spoken</i>—with him.”</p>
<p>“Well, if that’s the case. I’m glad to have you back on the team. The Golden Trio back to being a trio,” Harry smiles.</p>
<p>Hermione gives a soft smile in her friend's direction before returning to her meal. She places her tea cup down onto it’s saucer. She has taken to using the Black-family china decorated with black flowers and silver rims. She likes the ways the flowers remind her of herself. </p>
<p>The flowers look perfectly okay and beautiful on the outside, the painter made the blooms healthy looking. But deep down, the flowers are still black, no matter how healthy they seem. They symbolize death and mourning, whilst being at the pinnacle of their life.</p>
<p>~</p>
<p>April 22nd, 1998</p>
<p>The clock has just struck ten pm. The chimes of the grandfather clock ring throughout the house. </p>
<p>
  <i>Ding. </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>Ding. </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>Ding. </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>Ding.</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>Ding.</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>Ding. </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>Ding.</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>Ding. </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>Ding.</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>Ding.</i>
</p>
<p>Once the last chime has rung, Hermione drags her feet to the kitchen. A knot has formed in her stomach and she can’t settle her nerves no matter how much she tries to occlude and focus on her surroundings. The dread that fills her is ever present as she knows that the only reason she is going to this meeting is to gather information for Voldemort. </p>
<p>“Hermione, you actually made it!” Harry says as she reaches the kitchen. The witch gives a slight chuckle and takes her seat next to Ginny and Remus. “Glad to have you back,” Ginny whispers into her ear. “Glad to be back,” Hermione whispers back, not meaning any of the words that she has just spoken.</p>
<p>Hermione looks around the table and sees Kingsley, Sirius, Remus, Ginny, Harry, Ron, Molly, Arthur, Snape, Mad-Eye, and Bill. </p>
<p>“Where’s Minerva?” Hermione asks. She remembers that Minerva was a very high ranking Order member, meaning that she should be here. She looks around the table and sees everyone’s faces turned down in a solemn look. “Um—Minerva was killed in a skirmish last year whilst we were on the run,” Harry says, breaking the dull silence.</p>
<p>Hermione doesn’t know what to do with the information she has just received. She wants to go to her room and cry over the death of her favorite professor, but she has to be here—gathering information for Voldemort. But another part of her is glad that she’s gone. </p>
<p>She doesn't have to see what the war has done to her and the others. What rash measures have been taken. The mark on Hermione’s arm. She’s probably slapping Hermione senseless for her actions, wherever she is.</p>
<p>“Oh.” Is all the witch can manage to say. Hermione looks down at her hands, which are clasped together atop the dark wood dining table of Number Twelve Grimmauld Place. She sees that she has stretched the sleeves of her blue long-sleeve. Her hands gripping and pulling at the sleeves as her nerves project a physical manifestation of what is going on inside her head. </p>
<p>“Let’s get to business, shall we?” Sirius says, smacking one of his hands against the table. The whole table gives a low nod in response. Hermione’s ears are wide open as she needs to remember everything that is said in this meeting. </p>
<p>“Yes, we shall. Snape here has informed us of an attack the Dark Lord is planning on executing on the twenty-seventh of April,” Remus starts.</p>
<p>Hermione’s eyes go wide at the date that was mentioned. April 27th, the day she is to meet a Death Eater at Refel Lake. What could he be planning? Was he trying to make sure that she wouldn’t be a part of the skirmish? Hermione’s lips curl into a light smile as the thought of Voldemort trying to protect her runs through her mind. But—her friends would be in danger. She has to try and do something at least.</p>
<p>“Do you know when or where?” Hermione shyly asks, her eyes focused on Remus’s ears instead of his eyes. She can’t bear to look any of The Order members in the eyes knowing what she is doing to them.</p>
<p>“Actually, we do,” Remus starts, his hands motioning towards Bill. “Yes, thank you Remus. Voldemort is planning on attacking our holding cells in northern England at roughly five-thirty in the morning.”</p>
<p>Five am, when Hermione is supposed to be at the cabin. The witch is surprised by Voldemort more and more with each passing second. All the information poured out to her is saying that she is being saved by Death Eaters. In what world would she have ever imagined this outcome.</p>
<p>Hermione begins to bounce her knee as her nerves physically manifest in new ways. Bill begins to speak again and Hermione’s attention is drawn to the scarred redhead. “Ron here,” Bill starts, motioning to his youngest brother, “has come up with a fantastic strategy. We are planning to sneak up to the cells the night before and pull a muggle ‘guerrilla warfare’ tactic. We will wait in the forest around the cells and attack when the Death Eaters are within close range.”</p>
<p>“Wouldn’t they expect that type of tactic?” Hermione questions. With her knowledge on war it seems like the most logical approach to the issue, meaning the other side would expect that type of response. Especially since Hermione will have this information delivered on a silver platter to Voldemort.</p>
<p>“Not in a million years. It’s a new thing Harry taught us. How could those pureblood supremacists know of muggle warfare tactics?” Ron explains.</p>
<p>Hermione feels dissatisfied with his answer. She hopes they take her word to heart and change tactics at the last minute without her knowledge. She begins to remember why she left these meetings in the first place. Everyone of her ideas is always shot down. She is known as ‘the brightest witch of her age’ but never gets to use her smarts. </p>
<p><i>This is why</i> Hermione thinks. She has finally figured out what draws her back to the Death Eaters, even after what they have done to her. She feels a purpose, feels heard and respected. They <i>need</i> her to give them information on The Order. And for that invaluable information she is held on a pedestal among the Death Eaters, all whilst being a mudblood. A form of <i>L’appel du vide.</i></p>
<p>“I think Miss. Granger here does have a point, but you can discuss strategies at a later point,” Snape mentions, turning his gaze towards Hermione. </p>
<p>Hermione’s eyes lift to look at the black-haired man and gives a quick nod as a ‘thank you’. At least someone here has her back, even if it’s because of the worst of circumstances.</p>
<p>The rest of the table glances to Snape, acknowledging his words. They all give a light nod and continue.</p>
<p>“Bill, is Fleur doing well with the Resistance in France?” Mad-Eye asks. What hits her ears shocks Hermione. There is a resistance in other countries? That is both good and bad. Good, meaning they have allies. Bad because that means Voldemort’s ranks have dispersed themselves throughout Europe.</p>
<p>“Yes, she owled me last week with some of her progress. She said that she would have to stop writing, though, since more and more owls are being intercepted by the French-English Magical Customs Association.” </p>
<p>The rest of the meeting went on without much information being exchanged. Just polite pleasantries and mundane strategies were exchanged. </p>
<p>Hermione quickly gets up from her chair as the meeting ends. She rushes out of the door to her room. She doesn’t want to forget to write something down for Voldemort considering she does not want to be left at his mercy. “Hermione! Wait a second!” she hears Harry say from behind her. </p>
<p>The witch turns to face her trio mate, she sees him speed walking down the hall after her. Once Harry catches up to Hermione he lets out a harsh breath. For them being on the run for over a year they are both miserably out of shape. Hermione fiddles with the edges of her blue long-sleeve as Harry begins to speak, “Will you be coming to the skirmish on Monday?”</p>
<p>The one question Hermione hoped she wouldn’t be asked. Her eyes flutter and she begins to pull tighter at the hem of her shirt. The soft cotton threatens to break under the stress that Hermione’s grip is placing it under. She bites at her lip before she gives an answer, “Um—No. I have—um <i>—something—</i> to do that morning.”</p>
<p>“Really? Didn’t know Kingsley was already handing you work. If you need to rest let me know, I can clear you from work until you feel better,” Harry says to Hermione. Hermione is surprised at her friend's words; she would’ve thought that he would’ve wanted her to get back into the swing of things as quickly as possible. </p>
<p>Harry was always nice to her, more than nice sometimes, when they were on the run. But he hasn’t been <i>this</i> understanding in a while. She wonders if Ginny has gotten to him. Telling him to let everyone rest when needed, considering how much of a toll the war is taking on everyone.</p>
<p>She politely thanks Harry and rushes back to her room. She grabs a thick, fresh, sheet of parchment, opens a pot of black ink, and grips her quill in her right hand before dipping the white feather into the dark abyss of the ink. Hermione begins to write out all that she heard about during the meeting, by the time she is finished the only light left is a candle on her desk. </p>
<p>She looks back and sees Ginny’s bed empty. The witch figures that her roommate decided to sleep with Harry tonight. Hermione conjures up a Gryffindor-red envelope before folding up her parchment letter. The crisp vellum makes a slight crunching sound as she folds it to be able to fit in the envelope. </p>
<p>Once the letter is safely inside the envelope she closes it and puts a gold wax seal, with a G emblem, on the flap. Hermione mutters a notice-me-not charm under her breath over the envelope. Now, no one except herself can see the red bundle that contains her betrayal. </p>
<p>The witch was so caught up on making sure she had all the information that she forgot why she was collecting the information. Hermione blows out the candle on her desk before changing into her black pajama set that she has taken a liking to wearing. The giant long-sleeve making her feel small protected. The shorts make her feel pretty for once. The way that they hug her curves like they were made for her hips and not a random Death Eaters’.</p>
<p>Hermione crawls under her pink covers, the sheets itching at her skin. Her skin aches to be back in the Malfoy’s guest room. But, she knows that she won’t be able to any time soon, so she lives off the memories of those luxurious, black sheets. </p>
<p>Hermione’s mind begins to race with thoughts of what she has just done. She’s written down the downfall of The Order, her friends, and only family left that remembers her. She begins to softly cry at the thought and she soon drifts off to sleep with her pillow soaked in her tears.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>April 24th, 1998</p>
<p>“Can I get the groceries today?” Hermione asks the fellow Order members at the kitchen table. Hermione is nervous to ask this question. She bites her lip and stretches out her sleeves in anticipation of someone’s response. She has asked it many times before, and always received <i>no</i> as her answer. But she wouldn’t relent until they saw that she was right. </p>
<p>“Hermione, we’ve told you, it’s not safe for you to go,” Ron explains to the witch.</p>
<p>“And Ron, I’ve told you that I’m the safest option.” Hermione says. She is irritated with her ‘friends’ always knocking her down. No matter how many times she tells them that she will be safe, they always come back with <i>‘Mione you escaped, they’ll be after you.</i> She just wants to help in the best way she can since she’s already screwing them over enough.</p>
<p>“Ron, let her go,” Remus starts, “She hasn’t been out in over a week, we can’t keep her locked here forever.”</p>
<p>“But she <i>escaped,</i> they'll be itching to capture her,” Ron tries to reason.</p>
<p>“She can go.”</p>
<p>Everyone at the table looks up to see Kingsley speaking. He is usually very quiet at meal times. Hermione thinks this is the first time she’s heard him speak since she arrived at Number Twelve Grimmauld Place. </p>
<p>“What Kingsley says is final, so she goes,” Arthur says to the table. Ron gives a look of ‘you’ve got to be kidding me’ to his dad. Ginny nudges Hermione’s shoulder from next to her. The witch turns to the redhead and gives a soft smile. Ginny was always supportive of Hermione’s ‘little wins’. </p>
<p>Ginny had noticed her roommate becoming distant and always tried to be there for her. Hermione was thankful to have one person in this house who wouldn’t ignore or brush off anything she says. “Thank you.” Hermione says to Kingsley. The big man of The Order gives a nod to the witch before returning to his lunch.</p>
<p>“Well, since you are going, come with me after lunch and I’ll tell you of the best routes to take,” Sirius says to the Golden Girl. Hermione gives a genuine smile to the man at the head of the table before quickly finishing her meal.</p>
<p>~</p>
<p>“So, just putting this out there that I do not condone you going out,” Sirius starts, they are the only ones left in the kitchen as everyone else has dispersed to other locations within the safe house. “I think I’ve gathered that most of The Order agrees with your statement.” Hermione says, biting her lip. </p>
<p>The sleeves of her ruby-red long-sleeve are stretched and pulled taught as the witch’s nerves increase. Hermione stares at her hands, which are clasped up on the table. She can’t look Sirius in the eye no matter how hard she tries. She can’t meet the eyes of anyone in The Order these days. Her thoughts begin to turn sour whenever she manages even a blink of eye-contact.</p>
<p>“Nevertheless, I will try and keep you safe with this endeavor,” Sirius starts, leaning forward in his chair. His dark curls are unruly from the lack of hair products being used. The Order has much better things to spend Harry’s savings on than measley hair products. The man is in presentable, dark-purple robes, ones that he had left at the safe house when he ran away all those years ago. His mother left them untouched in his drawers, hoping that he would one day come back.</p>
<p>Hermione nods at Sirius’s words and he continues, “The best route is to apparate to an alley in London. Too many people in the city, Death Eaters are least likely to spot you in a bundle of muggles.”</p>
<p>“Is there a specific alley?” Hermione asks. Her hands grip harder on her shirt. The fabric becomes a lighter shade as she stretches the cotton to it’s limit.</p>
<p>“Any of them will do.” Sirius quickly responds. He tries to get the witch to look him in the eye, but fails miserably. “Hermione. You can’t go on closed off like this. It’s apparent to everyone that your mental state has been in a steep decline since you arrived back from Malfoy Manor. I’m not saying you have to talk to me, but you should talk to one of your friends. Ron, Harry, and Ginny care a lot about you, you know.”</p>
<p>Hermione’s knee begins to bounce as Sirius mentions her mental state. She wishes they would all just leave her alone. They have no clue what the witch is going through. And if they did, they would shun her for it. Yes, she has her ‘friends’ but she can’t tell them anything of her situation.</p>
<p>The witch stands in her chair and quickly leaves the kitchen. She rushes up the dark, creaky stairs to her and Ginny’s room. She reaches the door and barges in, thankfully, Ginny is nowhere to be seen. Hermione quickly shuts and locks the door. For good measure, she also casts a <i>muffalito.</i> </p>
<p>Hermione climbs into her pink twin and nestles into the covers. The itching feeling of the sheets is as present as always. <i>Meow!</i> Hermione hears her beloved kneazle coo. The orange fluff ball jumps its way onto Hermione’s bed and curls into the witch’s arms.</p>
<p>Hermione lets out a sob as the cat's fur brushes against her arms. The only person who can understand her isn’t even a person. Can the others in this Merlin forsaken building just understand that she can’t talk to anyone about her situation. </p>
<p>Hermione lets out a shriek as a pain in her arm radiates through her. She moves her left arm out from under the itchy covers before pulling up her red sleeve with a harsh tug. Her eyes are crowded with tears as she sees the tattooed snake wiggle up and down her forearm. She clutches her forearm with her right hand and curls in on herself. </p>
<p>The pain is unbearable. It is like a spider crawling up her skin, but instead of legs they are knives stabbing into her skin relentlessly. She screams and screams. Her vocal cords feel as if they are going to snap. Her mark hasn’t hurt like this since it was put into her skin. The snake sometimes gives a tingling wiggle every now and then, but never to this measure.</p>
<p>The witch quickly grabs her wand and mutters <i>insistodolare.</i> The pain relief charm does nothing to ease the hurt in her arm. It crawls up from her arm to her chest. She feels her lungs constrict and her breath intake halt. </p>
<p>Hermione gasps for air and quickly reverses the silencing charm. She screams at the top of her lungs for Snape. The only person in this house who might understand the pain she is feeling and going through at the moment. </p>
<p>At her scream the whole of Number Twelve Grimmauld Place rushes to the witches room. Harry is the first to reach her door and he kicks it open. “Hermione! ‘Mione! What’s wrong?” The green eyed boy frantically asks.</p>
<p>All the Golden girl can do is grip her arm in agony as that is all that fills her thoughts. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. She wishes it to end, she would do anything for the knife-legged spider to stop crawling. The tip of the knives digging into her skin over and over again. Leaving bleeding, aching wounds in its wake. </p>
<p>Ginny, Ron, and Sirius soon all barge into Hermione’s room. “What’s wrong?” Sirius asks Harry. “I don’t know, she’s just screaming and clutching her arm,” Harry quickly replies. Hermione can barely make out their voices over her screaming. Her vocal cords eventually die out and all she can do is rasp. </p>
<p>“Maybe it’s from her brand?” Ginny asks. Hermione’s eyes widen at the redheads' words. <i>No. No No. Not her brand, they can’t see it</i> the witch thinks. “Fuck, then there’s nothing we can do. Bellatrix used a bloody goblin wrought blade!” Harry shouts. The chosen one is fuming at this point since there is nothing he can do for his friend. Hermione lets out a breath as she realizes that they are talking about her mudblood carving and not her glamoured tattoo.</p>
<p>Snape then walks into the room. His eyes dart around the room frantically for the witch. He spots the signature unruly curls between the others gathered around Hermione’s pink twin. “Snape, she called for you. It’s her arm,” Ginny says to the black haired man.</p>
<p>Snape knows exactly what is paining the witch and rushes to get everyone out of the room. “I know what to do, but you all have to leave.”</p>
<p>“What? No! I’m staying till she’s better. She’s my fucking best friend!” Harry shouts. “Harry! Do what the man says!” Sirius shouts to his godson, pulling him towards the exit.</p>
<p>Hermione can barely comprehend what’s going on. All she hears are voices shouting and her lost-voice rasping. The knife-legged spider is still crawling, never ceasing it’s stabs for even a second. The witch cries and cries. Her face and bedding are soaked in her tears. She can’t see anymore, but feels a hand on her shoulder.</p>
<p>“Granger. Miss Granger!” She hears a man say in a monotone. She tries to blink away some of her tears to look at the man speaking to her. Hermione realizes it’s Snape and begins to speak through her sobs, “It hurts—please—stop—I can’t—“</p>
<p>“He’s calling you, you have to go,” Snape says to the pained witch. </p>
<p>“It—won’t—stop,” Hermione cries. Unable to process what Snape is saying over the unbearable pain.</p>
<p>“Here, I’ll take you.” As Snape's words leave his mouth he grabs the witches left hand and apparates away. Hermione’s stomach turns as they reach solid ground again. She feels as though she needs to throw up but her throat restricts anything from coming up.</p>
<p>“I found her like this on the street, my lord,” Snape says, gripping at Hermione’s hand so that she doesn’t turn into a puddle on the floor.</p>
<p>“Ah, I see she has felt my call,” Voldemort drawls.</p>
<p>With a flick of Voldemort’s wand Hermione’s pain ceases. The knife-legged spider jumps off of her skin, healing all it’s wounds before parting. Hermione catches her breath. Her chest opens and she is able to breathe again. She looks down at the inky mark through her tears and sees that the black snake has stopped slithering up and down her arm.</p>
<p>The witch wipes her tears with her stretched red sleeve before looking up to the man before her. “How was your trip?” Voldemort hisses.</p>
<p>“Fuck you.” Hermione seethes to the snake-like man.</p>
<p>“That’s to be expected,” Voldemort starts, “Now, I did make the pain a little more jarring than normal, but now you know that when your mark tinges you are to come to me.”</p>
<p>“How will I know where to go?” the witch retorts.</p>
<p>“Good question, mudblood! You are to report to Malfoy Manor. That is where I reside,” Voldemort drawls.</p>
<p>Hermione gets up from her kneeling position, shaking off Snape’s arm. She still feels the residual effects of the pain, the feeling of it still being there, but her nerves are being triggered by nothing except air. The witch looks up to Voldemort and sees that he is sat on a large throne adorned with glistening black crystals. The snake man's grey-tinged skin is a stark contrast to the dark interior of the room they are in.</p>
<p>“Why did you call me here?” Hermione shakily asks, her Gryffindor bravery lessened now that she remembers who she is dealing with. “I wanted to see how your task is coming along,” Voldemort says to the girl, motioning for her to speak of her progress.</p>
<p>“Um-well, it’s going well. I have information on how they are planning to counter-attack you on Monday.”</p>
<p>“So there is a spy in my ranks—Severus, keep a close eye on my ranks. We need to narrow down the conspirer.”</p>
<p>“Yes, my lord,” Snape bows before heading out of the grand, dark room that they are in.</p>
<p>“Just so you feel better about yourself, I have not organized a skirmish for Monday, it was merely a tactic to see if there were any spies in my ranks, and to see what information you can gather,” Voldemort says to the witch.</p>
<p>Hermione lets out a breath. She is thankful that there is no skirmish on Monday, but wait. Would she still have to go to Refel Lake? All the information she has would be useless. “Do I still have to go to Refel Lake? Considering, that’s all the intel I have.”</p>
<p>“Yes, my follower will have things for you. And bring whatever letter you were planning on bringing, I would like to see what you had written.”</p>
<p>And with Voldemort’s parting statement she is whisked away, back to Number Twelve Grimmauld Place.</p>
<p>~</p>
<p>April 27th, 1998 - 4:30 am</p>
<p>Hermione hears the alarm she set on her wand go off. <i>Ding! Ding! Ding!</i> She groggily mutters the snoozing spell to her wand and the dinging stops. The witch rolls onto her back, the itchy sheets eating away at her legs and palms.</p>
<p>Hermione blinks her eyes a few times as she awakes. She lets out a yawn and stretches her limbs. Her arms and legs are filled with comfort as they unstiffen. Hermione swings her legs over to the edge of her pink twin, pulling back the covers. She looks over and sees that Ginny is not here. </p>
<p>Hermione lets out a sigh, she’s glad that she won’t have to try to not wake her friend. The witch gets up from her bed and pads over to her dresser. The dark hard-wood floors are cold under her feet. The knicks and chips in the wood poke and prod at her soles.</p>
<p>Hermione reaches her hand out and opens the top drawer of the dark dresser. Her hand feels a familiar chill as she grabs the wood handle. The witches bronze eyes scan her clothing, she sees jumpers, long-sleeves, and jeans in every shade. She squints to see the colors before remembering to light a candle. </p>
<p>The witch rolls her eyes at her morning brain fog. She grabs her wand and lights the candle on her desk. The soft light bathes the room in an orange-tinged glow. Hermione turns her attention back to her dresser before picking out a navy wool jumper and a pair of black, low-waisted jeans. </p>
<p>Hermione changes out of her black night wear before throwing the jumper over her head. Navy wool pokes its way across the witch’s skin. She welcomes the feeling as it’s something to take her mind off of the impending trip to Refel Lake. Hermione wonders which Death Eater would she be meeting with. Would it be a high ranking general? Or, rather, an unmarked follower, doing as they are told as to not face Voldemort’s wrath.</p>
<p>As the witch contemplates her soon-to-be cabin mate, she pulls on her black jeans. She buttons and zips the denim before belting the fabric to her hips with a simple, black leather belt. </p>
<p>The silver buckle gives slight clinks and clanks as the witch fumbles with the metal. Once Hermione is dressed she takes her wand and walks over to her and Ginny’s bathroom. Black tiles adorn the walls and floor of the bathroom. Slight hints of navy and plum in the towels and candle holders. </p>
<p>With her wand, Hermione lights the two candles that are on each side of the oval shaped mirror above the black sink. Navy and plum hues paint the walls of the bathroom. The black tiles have highlights of color as the candle light hits and reflects off of the shiny surface. </p>
<p>The witch turns on the sink to cold water. She places her wand on the black, bathroom counter before cupping her hands under the rush of cool water. Hermione waits for the water to become ice cold. Her hands sting with the chill of the water. She then splashes the water on her face, a tingling feeling drifts up and down her pale skin. </p>
<p>Hermione takes in a shuddering breath, the cold fills her senses with joy and comfort. She has resorted to splashing her face with cold water and taking ice showers to regain some sort of feeling and control. The numbing, cold, dihydrogen monoxide hits her skin and the pain of what she’s done disappears, if only for a moment.</p>
<p>Hermione dries her face and looks at her reflection in the mirror. Her pale face is cast in a purple light as the navy and plum hues mix. As the witch scrutinizes her reflection she notices dark purple circles under her eyes. Her eyes are sunken in and her cheeks are slightly hollowed. Her curly hair is a frizzy mess, golden brown locks going left and right. </p>
<p>Hermione lets out a huff and uses her wand to try and tame her mane. Her curls aren’t cooperating so she decides to pull it up into a low bun, a few strands framing her emaciated face. The witch casts a light makeup charm, her under eyes becoming the same shade as the rest of her face and a light blush bringing color to her cheeks. </p>
<p>Hermione gives a light smile in the mirror to try and boost her confidence before she goes to meet a, most likely vile, Death Eater. She laughs at the thought that she is getting ‘dressed up’ to meet them. Her mind is hoping that one specific Death Eater will meet her there, but concedes that that is most likely impossible. </p>
<p>Once the witch is happy with her appearance she asks her wand what the time is. A little clock appears above her wooden magic stick showing <i>4:57.</i> Hermione quickly runs out of the bathroom, leaving the candles lit. She rushes over to her desk to grab the Gryffindor-red envelope before twisting away to Refel Lake.</p>
<p>Hermione lands in a mess of overgrown grass. The blades of green tickling her ankles as she walks along the edge of the lake. The witch’s bronze eyes scan her surroundings for a log cabin. She notices that facing north-west, she sees a dark building.</p>
<p>Hermione casts a <i>lumos</i> and walks towards the dark building. As she nears the building she can make out layers of dark logs on the sides of the building. She sees that in the direction that she is headed in, there are only windows that line the side of the building. The witch cautiously makes her way around the wooden structure until she finds a door.</p>
<p>Hermione stands before the door, the white light of her wand casting a faint glow upon the wood structure. She sees a silver handle, but before she touches it she casts a hex-detecting charm. The charm comes back negative and Hermione reaches her hand out to the metal handle.</p>
<p>When her hand reaches the silver, a chill creeps down her spine. This is the point of no return and with that thought she twists open the door and steps inside. Hermione closes the door behind her and <i>nox’s</i> her wand. The cabin is bathed in a warm orange glow.</p>
<p>“Granger.” A voice calls from behind her. She jumps around, facing the stranger who called her name. When her eyes land on the stranger she sees a flash of platinum hair.</p>
<p>
  <i>Draco.</i>
</p>
<p>The witch thinks. She looks the Slytherin up and down. He has on a formal black suit, much dressier than her wool jumper and jeans. Hermione slightly smiles at the sight, remembering her morning interaction with the blonde. She actually feels comforted in the presence of the poker-paced man. The one person who can maybe understand what she is going through is standing before her.</p>
<p>“Draco.”</p>
<p>As Hermione says the Slytherins name his jaw clenches. She did it again, she called him Draco. She needs to stick to Malfoy, can’t let these fleeting feelings of comfort override everything that this vile creature has done.</p>
<p>“I mean, Malfoy,” Hermione corrects, turning her eyes up to the blondes. His stormy-grey eyes give a faint glint as she changes her reply. “Well, do you have a letter?” Draco asks.</p>
<p>“Oh, yes. Here,” Hermione stammers, handing Draco the Gryffindor-red envelope. “Gryffindor-red, The Dark Lord will love this,” Draco sarcastically remarks, taking the letter in his leather-gloved hands. “Don’t you have something for me?” Hermione asks, turning the attention off of the Slytherins remark. </p>
<p>“As a matter of fact, I do,” Draco politely replies, taking out a black letter from inside his suit jacket. The Slytherins' gloved hand brushes up against Hermione’s as the letter is exchanged. Hermione takes note of the soft leather, no dragonhide, that lays atop the man's hands. Hermione’s eyes widen at the realization that his gloves are made of dragonhide and not leather. </p>
<p>From what she remembers, dragonhide goods cost a fortune. Draco would’ve had to break out some real money for these. Yes, she knows the man is rich, but this is just filthy. Normal leather gloves look the exact same, yet cost less than half the price.</p>
<p>Hermione places the letter in her waistband, the edges poke against her flesh as she paces around the small cabin. “So, can I go?” Hermione asks the fellow Death Eater.</p>
<p>“No.”</p>
<p>“Well, why not? I gave you a letter and you gave me one. What else is there to do?”</p>
<p>“Let me first read the letter and check that you didn't leave anything out”</p>
<p>“Not trusting me?”</p>
<p>“No, you love your Order too much for me to trust only this,” Draco says, holding up the red envelope. Hermione scoffs and rolls her eyes. Draco begins to tear open the letter, his gloved finger gliding across the top of the letter as it rips. Once the envelope is fully open, Draco pulls out the folded parchment.</p>
<p>With a crinkle he unfolds the letter and begins reading it over. Hermione nervously paces across from the Slytherin as he scans the ink-filled parchment. The witches arms crossed in a defensive position, her wand tightly gripped in her hand like she expects Draco to hex her at any moment. Draco places the letter down on a light colored wooden table, one of the few pieces of furniture in the cabin. Hermione looks up to the blonde and his eyes lock with hers.</p>
<p>She sees his gloved hand reach up and make a ‘come here’ motion. She looks at his hand and gives a confused glance. Draco cocks a brow at her before speaking. “Legilimency time.” Hermione rolls her eyes and strides over to the man, her wand is held tightly in her right hand. Her arms still crossed firmly against her chest as she walks towards the blonde.</p>
<p>“Just—relax,” Draco says as Hermione stops in front of him. His gloved hands move up to cup her face. The witch slightly flinches at his touch and closes her eyes. She knows that to perform legilimency correctly, she has to have her eyes open. She reluctantly peels back her eyelids and stares straight into Draco’s.</p>
<p>His grey eyes pierce her gaze just before she feels him enter her thoughts. Her memories flash before her eyes, the pain in her mark, Snape helping her, The Order meeting, Ginny, Voldemort. Draco quickly shifts and darts around her brain, her occlumency holding up miserably. </p>
<p>Hermione starts to cry, the pain of Draco darting through her memories is too much to bear. She moves her hands up to claw at his wrists, but all she catches is dragonhide. His skin protected from her wrath. She screams for him to stop, but he doesn't until he’s thoroughly been through the last two weeks.</p>
<p>The memory of her at Malfoy Manor flashes across her eyes, her interaction with the man in front of her. Her conjuring the same sleepwear she wore at the manor floats into view. At that, Draco pulls out of her mind.</p>
<p>“I see you fancy my shirt,” Draco chuckles. Hermione can barely make out what the man said, her thoughts jumbled from the intrusion. “What?” The witch lowly asks.</p>
<p>“I said, I see you fancy my shirt,” Draco says in a stern tone. “Oh, um—“ Hermione starts. The witch doesn't know how to respond. Her mind feels violated, this Death Eater seeing all her thoughts and feelings, ones she wishes were kept secret.</p>
<p>“I know I’m flattering, no need to put it into words.”</p>
<p>“Aren’t you full of yourself.”</p>
<p>“Sure am.”</p>
<p>“So—can I go now?”</p>
<p>“Do I repulse you that much?”</p>
<p>“You killed Dumbledore, so yes, you do.”</p>
<p>“Your memories say otherwise.”</p>
<p>Hermione fumes at his response. She wished for the Death Eater waiting here to be Draco, but now that it is, she wishes it was anyone else. Hermione grips at the hem of her jumper, pulling and stretching the wool. The itching feeling of the yarn graces her hands and she tries to focus on that instead of Draco’s leering gaze.</p>
<p>“Granger, if you wish for me to not see your deepest, darkest secrets, you better work on your occlumency. It’s atrocious,” Draco scoffs to the girl. Draco places his hands in his pockets, the pair are still within close proximity to each other. Their toes almost touch and breaths meet in the air. “I’ll even offer to help, even though I marvel at seeing you in my shirt.”</p>
<p>Hermione looks up from the hem of her shirt to the tall Slytheirn. His grey eyes stare into her bronze ones as they meet. One of Draco’s gloved hands reaches up and places a strand of her hair behind her ear. Hermione backs away at his touch. She feels repulsed at this Death Eater for doing such a thing with the relationship they have.</p>
<p>“Don’t touch me,” Hermione sternly says to the man from a few steps away. “Calm down Granger, your hair was in your eyes.”</p>
<p>“Why were you so nice to me that morning?” The witch impulsively asks the man. He is acting much different around her now than then. Hermione is trying to figure out this Slytherins motive since she will, most likely, have to endure him everytime she comes to this cabin. </p>
<p>Draco’s stance becomes guarded and a look of anger crosses over his face before restoring back to it’s emotionless demeanor. “Granger, me telling you to eat, and me being nice are two very different things.”</p>
<p>“You offered for me to show up at the manor whenever I pleased. That doesn't sound very ‘I hate you’ to me.”</p>
<p>“The Dark Lord told me to tell you that. Don’t look into things where there is nothing to see.”</p>
<p>Hermione can sense that Draco is deflecting her questions. The defensive tone he uses and the slight raise in his voice gives it away. The witch still wants to push his buttons, but she also doesn’t want to be left at the wrath of Draco Malfoy. The infamous Death Eater and killer of a Hogwarts headmaster. </p>
<p>Hermione chooses to stay quiet, her fingers fiddle with her jumper. The knit-work of the wool becomes undone at her picking and prodding of the fabric. Draco notices the witch’s nerves and decides to take a step towards her. </p>
<p>Hermione’s eyes shoot up at Draco’s entrance into her vision. She stares up to the stormy grey eyes, his blonde hair falls gently over his left eye. His mouth is turned up in a slight smirk.</p>
<p>Whilst staring into Hermione’s bronze eyes, Draco moves his hands to her wrist, grabbing them and pulling them away from the hem of her shirt. He can’t stand the fidgeting Gryffindor, her brave façade punctured by his presence.</p>
<p>“Get. Your. Hands. Off. Me.” </p>
<p>Hermione says in as intimidating of a voice as she can muster. She is surprised that her nerves don’t show through in her words, her tone stern and unwavering.</p>
<p>“Then don’t fidget,” Draco explains to the witch. Hermione’s wrists wriggle and clench in his grasp. His strong hands never let up from his vice-like grip. “Dammit, Granger! Just stay still. I’m not going to hurt you.”</p>
<p>Hermione glares into the Slytherins grey eyes. She is not having any of the man's words. Anger clouds her vision and all she wants to do is punch him, just like she had in her third year. “What’s your problem with me fidgeting? Hm?” Hermione retorts.</p>
<p>“You're a Gryffindor, I’m helping you keep that brave façade you put up. Your nerves do not help.” Draco’s hands still grip her wrists. He digs his fingers into her arm, making sure to leave marks of this event for whenever she decides to fidget again.</p>
<p>“Why do you care!” Hermione shouts, she is pissed at the Slytherin. It takes all her composure to not blurt out a few choice words. His hands are dug into her arms, a pain radiates throughout her lower arm. It is just strong enough to trigger her nerves response, but not agonizing enough for her to flinch. It’s just dull and there, not relenting or strengthening. </p>
<p>“Because I do!” Draco shouts. His voice echoes off the walls of the small cabin before a silence falls over them. Draco takes a few huffing breaths, his anger as pent up as Hermione’s. He rips his hands away from her wrists and Hermione is paralyzed in place. She can’t move a muscle no matter how hard she tries.</p>
<p>“See you next Monday, same time,” Draco says before leaving the cabin and apparating away with a <i>crack.</i> </p>
<p>Hermione’s mind is racing. She can’t process what just happened. Draco’s nice one second and pinning her hands against her the next. The witch sinks to the floor of the cabin and cries. Tears overwhelm her vision. She tries to wipe them away with her wool sleeve, but the water will not stop falling from her eyes. </p>
<p>Hermione can’t even say why she is crying. It’s a jumble of everything, her betrayal, Draco’s nice words being taken back with hurtful ones, his hands digging into her arm. She looks down at her wrists and through her sobs she can see finger-shaped purple bruises begin to form. She uses her wand to cast a quick glamour over them.</p>
<p>The witch doesn't want a reminder of the incident that just occurred. Hermione cries and cries until there are no more tears to be shed. Once that has happened, she stands and apparates away to Number Twelve Grimmauld Place.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Chapter 5</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>April 27th, 1998</p>
<p>Hermione is back in her and Ginny’s room at Number Twelve Grimmauld Place. She climbs into her pink twin, the sheets itching at her skin. Crookshanks jumps onto her bed and curls up in her arms. Hermione’s face is still wet with tears. She tries wiping them away with the sleeve of her jumper, but all the wool does is scratch and irritate her skin more than it already is.</p>
<p>“Thank Merlin.” Hermione hears someone sigh as the door to her and Ginny’s room is opened. Hermione turns herself to face the source and sees Harry in the doorway. “What is it, Harry?” The witch asks her friend.</p>
<p>“Well, when Ginny came in here to get ready this morning she saw your bed empty. She had the whole house searched and you weren’t here, only the lights in the bathroom were on.”</p>
<p>“Harry, you knew I had something to do this morning, remember?”</p>
<p>“Fuck! That’s right. I’m sorry ‘Mione, I gotta be a better friend and actually remember things,” the green eyed boy jokes.</p>
<p>“It’s ok, Harry. I just got back. How was the skirmish?” Hermione asks, full well knowing there was no skirmish.</p>
<p>“It was strange, there was no one there. It was as if there was never a planned skirmish at all!”</p>
<p>“Really? That’s odd. Did Snape say anything?”</p>
<p>“Yeah it was, and he said that The Dark Lord knows there’s a spy and that's why we were sent out. But why didn’t he tell us earlier?”</p>
<p>“Harry, if The Dark Lord knows that there is a spy why—why would Snape try to make it any more obvious?” Hermione says, almost tripping up on her words that she and Snape were before Voldemort when he made this revelation.</p>
<p>“I suppose your right,” Harry starts, turning his head towards the ground and itching the back of his neck, “Well, I should probably be going. Sorry for bothering you.”</p>
<p>“It’s okay.”</p>
<p>And with Hermione’s last words Harry closes the door and disappears into the hallway. The witch lets out a quick breath. She is relieved that Harry couldn’t see any trace of the tears on her face in the dark room. The sun has barely risen, it’s about six in the morning, the witch guesses.</p>
<p>Hermione turns back to her fur ball and snuggles him before succumbing back to her sore thoughts of the morning. She <i>finally</i> saw Draco again and when she did he was a total one-eighty of the last time. All the niceties and fluff were gone. Replaced with a cold and angered demeanor.</p>
<p>She wonders why her fidgeting bothered him so much. If anything, he should be reveling in her nervousness around him. Hermione moves her torso and as she does she remembers the letter Draco gave her. One of the corners of the envelope presses into the skin on her stomach.</p>
<p>The witch lifts her jumper to grab the letter from her waistband. The black paper of the envelope is scratchy on her fingers. The paper has lines and grooves engraved in it. She stares at the silver calligraphy of her name before turning the letter over.</p>
<p>Before Hermione opens the letter she uses her wand to light the candle on her desk. The room is now bathed in that familiar orange glow. The witch turns her attention back to her letter and pops open the silver, V, seal. Hermione takes the sheet of folded parchment in her hand before separating it from the envelope. </p>
<p>She banishes the envelope with her wand before reading the letter she received from Draco.</p>
<p>
  <i>Hermione—my prized mudblood,</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>I see to it that you have met your letter mate. I do hope that you enjoy his company, for you will be spending a lot of it with him in the near future. He is one of my most prized followers. He has been told that he will use any measures necessary to get information that you withhold, crucio will not be off limits. </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>And don’t think he won’t use it against you.</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>Now, for your next task I want you to still gather as much information as you can. If you have any word on who the spy is, that would also be greatly appreciated.</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>Other than that, you have no special tasks. You are to meet the Imperial Legatus on Monday at 5 am again next week.</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>Your royal leader,</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>The Dark Lord</i>
</p>
<p>Hermione sighs as she finishes the letter from Voldemort. She quickly folds it up and burns it before she can think about it. </p>
<p>As the letter turns to less than ash the witch lays on her back and stares at the dark wood ceiling of Number Twelve Grimmauld Place. <i>Imperial Legatus</i> Hermione thinks. She recognizes <i>Legatus</i> as the latin adjacent to lieutenant. Voldemort must’ve gotten his rank ideas from Roman and Old English military ranks. </p>
<p>The witch goes over what she remembers learning in primary school about military ranks. She remembers that they never went over it in school, but it always fascinated her so she did some of her own extracurricular reading. Hermione laughs at her young fascination. Little did young ‘Mione know she would be in the middle of a war. </p>
<p>“Hermione?” Hermione hears Ginny softly ask as she pears her head into the pair's room.</p>
<p>“What is it, Ginny?”</p>
<p>“Harry told me you were back. I was so nervous earlier. I thought something had happened. I would’ve never forgiven myself since I was all the way in Harry’s room instead of here.”</p>
<p>“Ginny, it’s okay. You can keep staying in Harry’s room. I don’t mind being here.”</p>
<p>Hermione says that with the hope that Ginny stays in Harry’s room. She loves the youngest redhead with her whole heart, but would prefer to not have to face her every waking moment. </p>
<p>Ginny steps into the pair's room before closing the door and going to sit on her teal twin. Hermione sits up in her pink twin, brushing the covers off of her legs before swinging them around to face Ginny. The witch gives a soft smile to the youngest redhead before she begins to speak.</p>
<p>“Hermione, I know you don’t want to talk about it, but you really should. It’s unnerving to all of us with how distant and secluded you’ve been.”</p>
<p>“Ginny, I don’t know what to tell you. There isn’t anything to say.”</p>
<p>“We don’t have to talk about it, we can talk about anything, I just want to have my old friend back.”</p>
<p>Hermione can’t help but be slightly hurt by Ginny’s words. The redhead will never have her old friend back. Her old friend would do anything for The Order. Her old friend would’ve never taken the Dark Mark, no matter the reason. Her old friend would never be a spy for Voldemort. Hermione isn’t who she was a few weeks ago. A tattoo on her arm and Snape can confirm that.</p>
<p>“I—um—Are you and Harry doing well?”</p>
<p>“Oh, yes. Our time apart really fueled the flame of what was already there,” Ginny says with a wide smile on her face, “What about you and Ron?”</p>
<p>“Ginny, there’s <i>nothing</i> between us. We are much better friends than we are lovers.”</p>
<p>“So you <i>have</i> been lovers.”</p>
<p>“No! No! That’s not what I meant!” Hermione says with a laugh, a real genuine laugh that she hasn’t been able to feel in so long. She relishes in the feeling of happiness. The witch looks up and sees Ginny is laughing as well. She can tell that the redhead has been in a slump as well since the start of the war.</p>
<p>“Sure it wasn’t.”</p>
<p>“I can bet you a hundred galleons that it wasn’t.”</p>
<p>“Ok, I’ll take your word for it.”</p>
<p>The pair keel over in a fit of laughter before Harry comes in to see what is the matter.</p>
<p>“What are you two doing in here?” </p>
<p>“Nothing!” the pair say in unison.</p>
<p>“Oh, ok. ‘Nothing’,“ Harry says with air quotes before he takes a seat next to Ginny on her teal twin.</p>
<p>“I’m sorry about earlier, Hermione,” Harry says scratching the back of his neck. Hermione has noticed that when Harry is nervous or feeling sorry, he scratches the back of his neck. One of his axiatic tics.</p>
<p>“What is he talking about, ‘Mione? Harry, did you scare her?” Ginny says, turning to her lover and playfully slapping him on the chest. His grey t-shirt ripples on impact. Harry gives a laugh at the redheads feisty burst of energy.</p>
<p>“Ginny, it was nothing. Harry just forgot I had something to do this morning.”</p>
<p>“You knew? And you made us all panic for nothing!” Ginny exclaims to the, now slightly terrified, Harry.</p>
<p>“What? I forgot!”</p>
<p>“Oh, I’ll make sure you never forget anything like that again!”</p>
<p>Ginny says that and before the green eyed boy can give a playful retort he is pushed back onto Ginny’s teal twin. The redhead gives a few mock punches before Harry grabs hold of her arms and sits himself up, fastening the youngest Weasley’s hands behind her back.  </p>
<p>“Hey!” Ginny exclaims, fighting Harry’s grip on her arms, “Let go!”</p>
<p>“Can you not punch me?” Harry playfully smirks.</p>
<p>“Get a room, you two!” Hermione says covering her eyes with her frail hands. Ginny and Harry let out a laugh before she hears Harry drag his lover out of her room and down to his.</p>
<p>Hermione lets out a chuckle before she gets up and closes the door to her and Ginny’s room. The witch trudges back over to her bed and her thoughts begin to turn sour again.</p>
<p>How could she just share a genuine laugh with the people she is betraying? She needs to keep distant from the others. She would rather them think she’s depressed and lonely rather than happy and jovial. She knows how to put up a front, admittedly not as well as Draco, but a front nonetheless.</p>
<p>Draco.</p>
<p>The Imperial Legatus. The head honcho of Voldemort’s ranks, it seems. She needs to figure out more of Draco’s involvement. Maybe she can try and use her feminine skills to try and seduce it out of him.</p>
<p>If she’s going to be a spy for Voldemort, the least she can do is at least try to help The Order, albeit whilst not getting her killed, or worse.</p>
<p>~</p>
<p>Over the next week Hermione gathers as much information as she can for Voldemort. She shys away from any contact other Order members pursue with her. She wants to be left to her own devices. Not worrying about saying the wrong thing or acting the wrong way.</p>
<p>The witch isolates herself in her room, only briefly speaking to Snape and going to Order meetings. Snape has been a huge comfort to Hermione. The black haired man is the only one who knows of her involvement, and he doesn't even resent her for it.</p>
<p>Hermione told Snape what Voldemort asked of her. The information she needs to get and the intel she’s supposed to have on any suspected spy’s. The witch almost cries in his arms. She doesn’t know what to do, she can’t blow his cover, he’ll be cruciod into madness—death, in Voldemort’s eyes, would be a mercy that a suspected spy would not be faced with. </p>
<p>Snape tells the witch that he’ll be fine, Draco would never go against him. Hermione doesn’t believe the man, but can do nothing but take his word for it. </p>
<p>~</p>
<p>May 4th, 1998</p>
<p>Hermione awoke to her alarm ringing. The witch muttered to her wand and the ringing ceased. It was roughly four-thirty in the morning and she had a meeting to attend to. She lit the candle on her desk, bathing the room in it’s slight orange glow.</p>
<p>Hermione pulled the itchy covers of her pick twin off of her and she got up and walked over to her dresser. She picked out a pink long-sleeve and a pair of blue jeans. The witch made her way over to the bathroom, lit the candles which added a purple hue to the room and got dressed.</p>
<p>Hermione shrugged on her long-sleeve and pulled up her jeans. The jeans had a slight hole, which she repaired with a quick flick of her wand. She reached out her hand and turned on the tap.</p>
<p>Cold water poured into her hands, the stinging chill against her skin distracts her from the looming trip ahead. Hermione splashes the water on her face. The cold droplets make her face clench and contort at the contact. She drys her face and hands with a flick of her wand and heads back out into her and Ginny’s bedroom.</p>
<p>Hermione pads over to her desk and grabs the Gryffindor-red envelope with The Dark Lord scrawled on the back in a gold font. The witch checks the time on her wand, she sees that it is 4:57 and with that she apparates over to Refel Lake.</p>
<p>Hermione twists and turns before she feels her feet finally reach solid ground. The tall grass nips and pricks at her ankles. She slightly winces at the pain, but casts a <i>lumos</i> and starts heading over to the shack. </p>
<p>She remembers that the building is located north-west, so she begins to head in that direction. The wooden building comes into view and through the windows she sees that the cabin is bathed in an orange glow. Hermione figures that Malfoy must be already there, the <i>Imperial Legatus.</i></p>
<p>She pads around the back of the shack to the front door and grasps at the handle. Hermione takes a deep breath before <i>noxing</i> her wand and opening the door.</p>
<p>“Only one minute late,” Draco sneers as he gets up from the chair in the room. Hermione looks up at him, he’s in what appears to be his Death Eater robes but without the mask. The same dragonhide gloves are on his hands and she sees a letter in them, the familiar black envelope from Voldemort. </p>
<p>The witch rolls her eyes at his words before she places her Gryffindor-red envelope on the table. Draco picks the letter up in his hands before popping the gold seal and reading the contents of the ink-stained parchment.</p>
<p>“So, not much new?” Draco questions Hermione with a quirk of his blonde brow.</p>
<p>Hermione crosses her arms, pressing her hands into the excess fabric of her long-sleeve. “No,” the witch says looking down at the wood floor. She hears the Slytherin walk towards her till his feet are in her field of vision. Hermione finally looks up and into those stormy grey eyes.</p>
<p>“Hold still.” Is all Draco says before he cups Hermione’s face and begins legilimency. Hermione feels Draco poking and prodding around her mind. He darts and wrecks through her memories until she comes upon one with Snape in it.</p>
<p>Hermione tries to pull away from Draco, her horrendous occlumency skills are not going to cause Snape to get found out. “STOP!” she screams, pulling at Draco’s wrists and he finally lets up.</p>
<p>“So, it’s Snape? And you didn’t even put it in your letter. The Dark Lord is not going to like that very much,” Draco says walking around the witch.</p>
<p>Hermione is stunned and has no idea of what to do or say. She nervously bites her lip before drumming up the courage to speak. “Please, please don’t tell him. I—I—I’m trying to get better at occlumency, and you said you’d teach me. I promised him I wouldn’t say anything.”</p>
<p>“Granger, I won’t tell him. Snape would kill me before then, even with my status in the ranks. And as you said, I did offer.” As Draco says this he takes out a black leather tome and hands it to the witch.</p>
<p>Hermione takes the tome in her hands, the black leather is soft and jagged, the book must be old as when she opens the pages they are slightly yellowed. On the first page it reads, <i>Beginners Guide to Occlumency, By: #[{a_1R-d\~</i></p>
<p>She can’t make out who the author is over the smudging of the ink, but she looks up to Draco and gives a soft smile. “Thanks,” Hermione softly says.</p>
<p>“I want that read by the time we meet again, your skills better have improved by then. It’s really abysmal how bad you are at it.”</p>
<p>“O-Ok, um—Can I go now?” Hermione asks, clutching the tome to her chest.</p>
<p>“You always want to get rid of me so quickly, but I guess,” Draco says with an obnoxious sigh before handing her the black envelope and apparating away.</p>
<p>Hermione mutters a quick invisibility charm over the letter and book before she apparates back to Number Twelve Grimmauld Place.</p>
<p>~</p>
<p>Hermione arrives in her room and checks the time on her wand, <i>5:33.</i> The witch heads over to her desk and places her book and letter from Draco on the wood surface. </p>
<p>She tip-toes her way down into the kitchen, thankfully, no one is there. Hermione grabs a slice of bread and spreads some butter on it. Before the witch heads back up to her room she pours herself a glass of pumpkin juice.</p>
<p>Hermione brings the food into her room and nibbles on the bread as she reads her way through the black leather tome. She finds that she always has a problem with compartmentalizing her thoughts. Her mind is always running at a million kilometers an hour, everything she can think of is right in the forefront of her mind.</p>
<p>The book recommends trying focusing exercises. Anything from meditation to one-thought trials. Hermione decides to try the one-thought trials, since she won’t feel like she is wasting her time like if she were to sit and meditate everyday.</p>
<p>
  <i>One-Thought Trials</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>Find a steady breathing pattern, eyes can be open or closed. Ex. In for four, hold for three, out for six. In for four, hold for three, out for six.<br/>Think of one thing, it can be a still river, a snow-capped mountain, or even a still prairie with flowers.<br/>Never stop thinking of that thing, if you feel your thoughts straying bring your mind to your breathing, say ‘in’ as you breathe in and ‘out’ as you breathe out.<br/>Do normal tasks as you are thinking of this one thought, make it normal for you to only be thinking of this thought.</i>
</p>
<p>Hermione places the unfinished slice of bread back on the Black-Family china plate and closes the book, placing it at her side. Hermione takes a deep breath in, inside her head she says <i>in, one, two, three, four, hold, one, two, three, out, one, two, three, for, five, six.</i></p>
<p>She repeats the breathing pattern until it becomes natural for her, she decides to keep her eyes open, just in case anyone happens to barge in on her. Her mind drifts to a sunflower field. The yellow blooms barely make a stir in her vision. </p>
<p>The rest of her thoughts start to fade away, her mark, her friends, Voldemort, Snape, Draco, all fade away to a field of sunflowers. Hermione notes the petals bright yellow color, the muted green of the stalks. The sun is perfectly at high-noon. </p>
<p>She grabs her plate of bread and takes the slice and begins to eat it. Her thoughts still focused on the sunflower field. Hermione’s breath remains steady and she continues this practice till a knock at her door jots her out of her sunflower-filled trance.</p>
<p>Hermione quickly places her plate down and heads over to her door. She grasps at the handle and turns it open.</p>
<p>“Oh, hi, Harry,” Hermione says as she looks up to see her green eyed friend at her door.</p>
<p>“Hi, um, could I come in?” Harry asks.</p>
<p>“Oh, yeah, sure,” Hermione opens the door more and lets her friend in before closing it and heading over to her pink twin.</p>
<p>Harry takes a seat on Ginny’s teal twin, and begins to speak, “Hermione, where were you this morning?”</p>
<p>Hermione’s eyes go wide, how did anyone know she was gone? She left before dawn and came back in maybe thirty minutes. “What do you mean, Harry?”</p>
<p>“Well, when Ginny came in here to grab a pair of spare clothes earlier, she saw your bed made and you nowhere to be found.”</p>
<p>“Harry, I had something to do. No need to get yourself worried,” Hermione tries to comfort.</p>
<p>“You’re—always so secretive nowadays. Is everything okay? If Kingsley is giving you too much work and you’re stressed, I can get him to hold back. I just—I miss you Hermione.”</p>
<p>Hermione takes a deep breath. She misses her old self too. The brave Gryffindor who would do anything to help The Order, not the girl who is spying for Voldemort. She pushes those thoughts away, thinking of her sunflower field before answering Harry.</p>
<p>“Harry, it’s okay. I’m still—still adjusting to things. The tasks I have keep my mind busy and not dwelling.”</p>
<p>“Is there anything I can do?” Harry says with a look of concern on his face.</p>
<p>“Nothing more than you already are. Harry, just promise me this,” Hermione starts and Harry nods his head for her to continue, “don’t hate me.”</p>
<p>“ ‘Mione? Why would I ever hate you? You’re my first and best friend.”</p>
<p>“Sorry, I just had to say it.”</p>
<p>As Hermione finishes her sentence Harry gets up from Ginny’s bed and walks over to Hermiones. He wraps his skinny arms around the witch and places his chin on her head. Hermione gets up and returns the favor, wrapping her arms around his torso. She lays her head on his chest and softly sobs. </p>
<p>Harry doesn’t say anything, just holds her. Hermione feels his heartbeat through his shirt, a steady thump that reminds her of her breathing exercises. She takes a few deep breaths to try and calm her thoughts. She thinks of the sunflower field and her mind calms. </p>
<p>Her eyes begin to dry up, only leaving tear streaks on her cheeks and Harry’s shirt.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Chapter 6</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>May 7th, 1998</p>
<p>The Order finally let Hermione go on a grocery run. Sirius had briefed her through the safest routes again and she was now heading off.</p>
<p>Hermione checks her wand for the time, <i>8:30 am.</i> Sirius had told her it was best to go early since the Death Eaters tend to roam at the later hours. With a crack the witch is twirling away to an alley in muggle London.</p>
<p>Hermione feels her feet hit solid ground and her vision become clear again. She looks up and walks straight ahead out of the alley. The sun is, surprisingly, shining. Hermione hasn’t been out much since her and Harry got back, and her runs to see Draco were always in the wee hours of the morning, so it was nice to see the sun.</p>
<p>The witch makes a quick left and heads down towards the large <i>Sainsbury’s</i> sign. Sirius told her to keep an eye out for Death Eaters, but that is the least of Hermione’s concerns. She finally is away from The Order, away from her sour thoughts. </p>
<p>Out in the muggle world she is nothing more than a passing face. Her generic brown hair and eyes as well as her common pale complexion. In the Muggle world she isn’t ‘the brightest witch of her age’, ‘the Gryffindor Golden Girl’, or ‘Potter’s mudblood.’</p>
<p>Hermione relishes in the simple life of being a muggle. The people and faces she passes have no idea what is going on just outside of their reach. They don’t know that witches and wizards exist, let alone that there is a mass war going on between them as well.</p>
<p>They are oblivious, and as the saying goes <i>ignorance is bliss.</i></p>
<p>Hermione reaches Sainsbury’s without any disturbances. She walks inside the grocer, the cold air from the freezers hits her instantly as she steps inside. She wishes she had brought a cardigan, the witch’s red long-sleeve does little to keep her warm.</p>
<p>Hermione pulls the sleeves of her long-sleeve over her hands, creating a bit of warmth as well as calming her nerves. The fabric between her fingers is soft, but stiff. </p>
<p>The witch grabs a trolley before she heads off to do her shopping. Hermione makes the trip quick, only grabbing the necessities. She plucks two loaves of bread from the shelf, some butter, jam, eggs, tea, milk, and some canned goods.</p>
<p>Hermione is strolling down the soup aisle when a singing pain appears in her left arm. The witch contorts her face in agony, clutching her arm. She bites her tongue so as to not scream in the middle of the store, but she doesn’t have much reserve left.</p>
<p>Hermione tastes blood on her tongue and runs out of Sainsbury’s to a nearby alleyway, leaving her trolley.. She whips her wand out and apparates to Malfoy Manor without a thought.</p>
<p>“What!” Hermione exclaims to Voldemort, she is back in the same room that Snape had brought her to before.</p>
<p>“You got my call,” Voldemort drawls.</p>
<p>“Obviously.” Hermione is surprised by the boldness of her words. She thinks it might be the fact that if Voldemort was to do <i>anything</i> to her, he would pay regretfully. And if he lost the Golden Girl, his upper hand would be lost.</p>
<p>“Sassy one, today,” Voldemort starts, Hermione rolls her eyes, “I’m sorry if I interrupted a precious Order meeting.”</p>
<p>Hermione doesn’t do anything, her arms are crossed in front of her chest and her brief moment of rebelliousness is gone.</p>
<p>“So, tell me, what’s your job?” Voldemort asks.</p>
<p>“I—I’m not doing much, I was getting groceries as you called,” Hermione says with her eyes down on the floor, her feet facing in towards each other.</p>
<p>“Okay, that will do. You sit in on the meetings, yes?”</p>
<p>“Yes.”</p>
<p>Voldemort stands from his throne and walks towards Hermione. The witch keeps her eyes on her feet as the snake-like figure paces around her</p>
<p>“I will have the Imperial Legatus bring you and your Order food at your weekly meetings.”</p>
<p>Hermione snaps her eyes up to see Voldemort in front of her. Her mouth is slightly agape. Voldemort is an enigma to her. He wants to win this war, but keeps helping her and The Order, it may be little things, but why?</p>
<p>Did he just want to draw out the suffering? Make The Order see the error of their ways, as to not even create a residence?</p>
<p>“Wha—Why—Okay, um, thank you?” Hermione stutters.</p>
<p>“Don’t be shocked mudblood. I need you alive for my plans to work, and the less you are out, the less of a chance for your life to be endangered.”</p>
<p>“Why would my life be endangered? Both sides seem to love me,” Hermione mutters the last part of her statement under her breath.</p>
<p>“A case of wrong place wrong time. It’s best you leave as little as possible.”</p>
<p>Voldemort smiles at the witch, his rotten teeth on full display. Hermione gives a low smile back and asks if she can leave. Voldemort replies with a yes, and to always be getting more info.</p>
<p>With a crack Hermione apparates back to Sainsbury’s and finds her trolley untouched. The witch finishes up her shopping before heading to an alley to apparate back to Number Twelve Grimmauld Place.</p>
<p>~</p>
<p>May 11th, 1998</p>
<p>At the usual 4:30 in the morning, Hermione’s wand went off. She got up and ready, putting on a black long-sleeve as well as medium-blue jeans. Before the witch left for Refel Lake she grabbed the Gryffindor-red envelope containing her betrayal.</p>
<p>Hermione is walking north-west towards the wood building in the distance. Just like last time, an orange glow is coming from the windows. The tall grass nips at her bare ankles, but she doesn’t know that as her mind is focused on a field of sunflowers. </p>
<p>Hermione is practicing her one-thought trials in preparation for Draco’s legilimency. The witch feels much better about her occlumency, she’s been practicing over the past week. Keeping her thoughts at bay, it doesn’t matter if it was good or bad, it was gone.</p>
<p>Hermione reaches the door and grasps the handle. She takes a deep breath, then turns the door open.</p>
<p>“On time this time,” Draco snickers.</p>
<p>Hermione rolls her eyes, she places her envelope on the little table that Draco is seated at. </p>
<p>“Has that book helped?” Draco asks, getting up from the chair and standing in front of Hermione.</p>
<p>“Yes, it has,” Hermione says, looking straight into his grey eyes.</p>
<p>“Well, let’s put that to the test.”</p>
<p>As Draco says that he takes one step towards Hermione and cups her face. She stares deep into his eyes, only the thought of a sunflower field clouds her mind. Hermione feels Draco trying to break through her field, but it holds. All Draco’s eyes can see is kilometers, among kilometers, of bright yellow sunflowers. </p>
<p>Once Draco is satisfied, he pulls out of her mind. Hermione finds that occlumency helps the pain of legilimency. She can’t feel any pain, her mind blocks it out.</p>
<p>“I see that you have been practicing. That is a nice sunflower field, I must say,” Draco chuckles.</p>
<p>Hermione just stares into his eyes, her mind still in her sunflower field. “Granger? You can pull out now.”</p>
<p>Hermione blinks her eyes and comes back to reality. She is hit with a wave of emotions. She starts crying for, seemingly, no reason.”What? I—Are you okay?” Draco frantically asks as Hermione melts to the floor in a mess of tears.</p>
<p>“I—don’t—know,” Hermione sobs. Draco kneels next to her and rubs her back. He has no idea how to comfort anyone, all he knows is that when he was sad in his youth his mother would rub his back and whisper sweet nothings to him.</p>
<p>Now he gets cruciod on the regular. No form of comfort is provided. Someone who needs to be comforted is weak.</p>
<p>“Fuck!” Draco whispers to himself.</p>
<p>“W-What?” Hermione asks between sobs.</p>
<p>“Well, I did something to upset the prized Golden Girl, and now I can’t leave until you can apparate safely.”</p>
<p>“N-No, it’s o-okay. You can g-go,” Hermione chokes out.</p>
<p>The same Draco that greeted her at the Manor seems to be back. The one that seemed happy to see her. The one that offered her a scone in gratitude.</p>
<p>“No, I’m staying,” Draco calmly says, still rubbing her back.</p>
<p>“D-Don’t you have s-somewhere to be?”</p>
<p>“No.”</p>
<p>Draco and Hermione sit there on the floor of the building until Hermione is sleeping in his arms.</p>
<p>~</p>
<p>Hermione opens her eyes and looks around hazily. She sees a familiar gray and black room. She feels those amazingly soft sheets.</p>
<p>“Wha?” </p>
<p>“You fell asleep,” Hermione hears Draco say.</p>
<p>She turns over to see Draco in the door frame.</p>
<p>“I-I should go. They are probably worried,” Hermione hurriedly says whilst getting up from the bed and trying to push past Draco.</p>
<p>“Nothing to worry about. Stay a while, you should rest,” Draco says, lightly pushing her back to the king-size four-poster.</p>
<p>“O-Okay,” Hermione says, taking a seat on the bed.</p>
<p>“I’ll get you some food, but get some rest.”</p>
<p>Before Draco leaves the room he closes the door and Hermione lays down.</p>
<p>Hermione wonders as to why she is here and why Draco is being so nice to her. Her memories start to come back, but she is still confused. The witch decides to relish in the amazing Malfoy guest-room sheets. </p>
<p>She curls up her small frame and buries herself in the bundle of soft cotton. A stream of light comes in through the enormous window in the room. Hermione guesses that it is roughly noon-time.</p>
<p>There is a knock at the door and Hermione turns to face the sound, not moving from the comfort of the black sheets. “Here, it’s tea and some scones. And, yes, they aren’t poisoned, I checked myself,” Draco says with a tilt of his lip.</p>
<p>Hermione gives a small smile to the Slytherin. Draco places the plate and cup on the coffee table, taking a seat in one of the chairs. He then grabs a teacup and saucer and begins to pour himself a cup of tea.</p>
<p>“Care to join me?” Draco questions, looking towards the witch entangled in bedding.</p>
<p>“Uh—um—er—Sure?” Hermione says.</p>
<p>She sits up, and this is when she notices that she is wearing a familiar black long-sleeve t-shirt and satin shorts. The witch tilts her head down and fiddles with the edge of the shirt.</p>
<p>“I knew you liked them,” Draco says nonchalantly.</p>
<p>Hermione nods and then walks over to the chair across from Draco. She is surprised that Draco remembers this minute detail from their first legilimency session. How much else does he remember? Hermione gets self-conscious of her thoughts before turning them to her sunflower field.</p>
<p>“Eat something, for me?” Draco asks, taking a sip from his cup. The Slytherin is laying back in his chair, his foot on the knee of his other leg. </p>
<p>Hermione looks down at her plate of scones and takes the smallest one. She nibbles on the edge and finds it to be vanilla flavored. Narcissa must be a wonderful cook, these are the best scones Hermione has ever tasted.</p>
<p>Once the witch confirms that they aren’t poisoned, she quickly cleans the plate. Draco gives a low chuckle at her haste to finish the pastries. Hermione looks up to him and can’t help but feel a smile tug at the edge of her lips.</p>
<p>“Th-Thank you,” Hermione says as she sits back in her chair, pulling her legs up to her chest.</p>
<p>“No worries,” Draco says, looking her straight in the eyes.</p>
<p>Hermione and Draco sit there in silence. Hermione’s mind begins to break from her sunflower field and she catches herself asking questions. Why is he being so nice? Why is he helping me like this? </p>
<p>The witch gains her Gryffindor courage and asks Draco one of the questions on her mind. “Why are you being so nice?”</p>
<p>“Can I not be a good host?” </p>
<p>“No, you always have a motive.”</p>
<p>“Well, my motive is to not have The Dark Lord kill me,” Draco says with that familiar sarcastic tone.</p>
<p>Hermione smiles lightly at his words, she doesn’t know why, but this Slytherin who teased her for years is someone who she feels that she can be herself around.</p>
<p>“Your clothes are in the drawers,” Draco starts, Hermione's eyes widen at the realization that he had to undress her again. “Don’t worry, I used the charm.”</p>
<p>“Oh—um—thanks,” Hermione says. She brings her legs down and reaches forward to grab her teacup. The china is cold on her fingertips as she grips the cup before taking a sip.</p>
<p>It’s Earl Grey with two sugar cubes and one spoon of honey.</p>
<p>“Is the tea alright?” Draco asks at the look of shock on Hermione’s face.</p>
<p>“I-It’s my favorite,” she shyly says.</p>
<p>“I guess we have something in common then,” Draco smiles.</p>
<p>Hermione takes a few more sips of her tea before she decides it’s best to head back to Number Twelve Grimmauld Place.</p>
<p>“Thank you for everything, I should probably get going.”</p>
<p>“Trying to get rid of me so soon?” Draco jokes. Hermione’s face turns into a look of shame for asking to leave, “It’s okay I’m only joking. Yes, you should probably head back soon.”</p>
<p>Hermione nods and Draco gets up from his chair and heads to the door. “Come to my room when you are ready, I have a portkey that you can use.”</p>
<p>And with a nod Draco leaves the room, closing the door as he does. Hermione is left to her devices, her thoughts jumble again. She breathes and thinks of her sunflower field.</p>
<p>Hermione gets up from her chair, placing her teacup and saucer down on the table. She walks over to the dresser and opens the first drawer She finds her shirt, jeans, wand, and trainers all neatly placed.</p>
<p>Hermione decides to keep on the current long-sleeve as a memento of comfort. She slips out of the satin shorts before pulling on the medium-blue jeans. The denim is much rougher on her skin than the satin, but a welcomed feeling nonetheless.</p>
<p>Hermione steps into her trainers and they tie themselves, a handy charm she and Harry learned whilst on the run. </p>
<p>Once the witch is dressed she grabs her wand, leaving her original long-sleeve in the drawer, and heads over to Draco’s room. Once she reaches the door she lightly taps on the wood.</p>
<p>Within her first tap the door opens, Draco seems to have been waiting by the door for her, just like last time. “Ready?” </p>
<p>“Yeah. Thank you for the pastries, tell your mother that they were delicious,” Hermione says whilst looking into Draco’s grey eyes.</p>
<p>“I will make note of that, here is the portkey. It will take you to the same spot as last time,” Draco says, handing her a black stone.</p>
<p>Hermione grabs the stone and before putting her mind to her destination, she gives Draco a smile. </p>
<p>“Oh, I almost forgot. Here,” Draco says handing the witch a small bag. Hermione quirks her brow in confusion.</p>
<p>“The food and your envelope,” Draco adds.</p>
<p>“Oh, thank you,” Hermione says, looking at the small bag. The witch thinks that it must have an undetectable extension charm on it, the amount of items needed would not even be close to fitting in the bag if it didn’t have one.</p>
<p>Before Hermione puts her mind to her destination she gives a smile to Draco. The Slytherin smiles back, and she is whisked away.</p>
<p>~</p>
<p>May 18th, 1998</p>
<p>“What is your problem!” Hermione shouts.</p>
<p>“Nothing! Just leave!” Draco shouts back</p>
<p>“Oh, so last week you can be all nice and offer me a room at the Manor and now you can’t even look at me?” </p>
<p>“Fuck off, if I did anything different The Dark Lord would have my head.”</p>
<p>“Yeah, <i>sure.</i> That would suffice if you hadn’t made my favorite bloody tea and put me in the pajamas you knew I liked!”</p>
<p>Draco’s fists are clenched at his sides. The seams of his dragonhide gloves threaten to break under the pressure of his strength. Hermione is out of breath and has a look of malice on her face. She is fed up with Draco’s bipolarness, one second he’s comforting her and the next he’s cussing her out.</p>
<p>“It’s my favorite tea too, is that too much for you to grasp!”</p>
<p>“Yes, actually it is! You looked into my mind and then kept that information, why would you do that if you hated me?”</p>
<p>“Just chill the fuck out, ok!”</p>
<p>“Give me that bloody letter and then I might!”</p>
<p>Draco throws the black envelope over to where Hermione is standing. It falls onto the floor and she bends down to pick it up. Once she has the black envelope in her hands, she strides over to Draco and looks him straight in the eyes. </p>
<p>“Here,” Is all the witch says, handing the Slytherins a Gryffindor-red envelope, all whilst maintaining eye contact.</p>
<p>Draco keeps his eyes on hers, breaking one of his fists he grabs the red envelope. Draco’s hand grazes Hermione’s and they both stop breathing for a moment. Hermione’s lips slightly part at the contact and before she can give it another thought, he is pinning her to the wall of the building.</p>
<p>Draco’s hands are pinning her wrists to the wall, right next to her hips. Hermione feels a warmth enter her senses as Draco inches closer to her. He leans in over near her ear, his warm breath itches at her collar. Hermione wants more, she crooks her neck to the side, feeling more of his breath on her skin.</p>
<p>Draco slightly smirks at her actions, he brings his lips to her ear and whispers. “Looks like you don’t hate me.”</p>
<p>And within an instant Draco pulls from her body and apparates away. Hermione is left stuck to the wall; her legs turn to jelly and she falls to the floor.</p>
<p>A mess of emotions wash over her and she begins to sob. How could she let Draco get to her like that? How could he be so bipolar? Just, why would he even be doing any of this?</p>
<p>Hermione gathers herself and focuses on her field of sunflowers. Her eyes dry up and her brain becomes numb. With the sleeve of her jumper, she wipes the tears from her cheeks. The wool of the jumper is rough, but it means nothing to her. None of it does.</p>
<p>The witch stands up and apparates away to Number Twelve Grimmauld Place, with a black letter in hand and a sunflower field in her mind.</p>
<p>~</p>
<p>May 25th, 1998</p>
<p>Hermione apperates to Refel Lake and as she walks towards the building she doesn’t see the normal orange glow. Once she reaches the door and goes inside all she sees is a black envelope with her name on it on the lone table.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Chapter 7</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>June 1998</p>
<p>When Hermione got back from her last few interactions with Draco, she had found that he was able to hide all of the food in the envelopes. She couldn’t lie to herself and say that his spell work wasn’t impressive.</p>
<p>Hermione had her own experience with undetectable extension charms, but never had she seen ones done as flawlessly as Draco’s.</p>
<p>~</p>
<p>It had been getting harder and harder to escape the questions of The Order. They were always were wondering why she was gone on Monday’s in the wee hours of the morning.</p>
<p>Hermione had tried the ‘I’m getting groceries’ tactic many of times. Even though she always came back with food, they were still quick to judge. If Draco had bought something worth value she was always accused of wasting Harry’s funds on measley wants.</p>
<p>The witch did her best to keep herself under the radar, but she couldn’t escape The Order forever.</p>
<p>“ ‘Mione?” Harry asks the witch as he peers into her and Ginny’s room.</p>
<p>Hermione plops her orange fluff-ball on her bed before walking up to Harry.</p>
<p>“Yes?”</p>
<p>“Can I come in?”</p>
<p>“Oh, yes, of course,” Hermione says, stepping back into her room to allow Harry to enter.</p>
<p>Hermione went and sat on her pink twin whilst Harry took a seat on Ginny’s teal twin. Crookshanks padded over to the pair and nuzzled himself into Hermione’s lap. The witch smiled and pet his head, the cat <em>purring</em> and <em>meowing</em> in response.</p>
<p>“What is it?” Hermione asks, looking up from her kneazle.</p>
<p>“I just wanted to talk. You have been more distant than even before. I’m worried, Hermione—all of us are,” Harry says with a look of concern on his face.</p>
<p>“H-Harry, I don’t know what to tell you,” Hermione says, looking back down to her kneazle. That familiar feeling of dread fills her senses. The feeling that reminds her of her betrayl. The one that makes her notice the ever present tingling in her arm.</p>
<p>“Hermione, we all know something happened that night at the Manor.”</p>
<p>Hermione can’t take the emotional overload that is picking at her senses, so instead she focuses on her sunflower field. The field that has nothing but a numbing bliss associated with it.</p>
<p>“Harry, nothing happened,” Hermione says in a stern tone.</p>
<p>“Hermione, you don’t need to lie to me,” Harry says. He can’t stand that his best friend is keeping secrets from him. Friends are suppose to help get each other through tough times, but all Hermione is doing is pushing everyone away.</p>
<p>“Harry, you don’t fucking get it, and you never will. Just—leave it,” Hermione says with an amount of ferver that even she didn’t know she had.</p>
<p>“I—I—Hermione? Wha—Is it something I said?”</p>
<p>“Harry, it’s what you <em>all</em> are saying. Tell everyone to shut up about me being distant. Nothing happened, and that is that.”</p>
<p>As Hermione says this she flips her legs over her pink twin and faces her back towards Harry. The witch can tell that Harry is dumbstruck. She can almost picture his mouth hanging open and his emerald eyes blown wide.</p>
<p>Hermione pets her fluff-ball until she hears Harry’s weight shift off of Ginny’s teal twin and onto the floor. The wood creaks with every step he takes towards the door. Hermione can sense him take one last look at her before leaving the room, closing the door on his way out.</p>
<p>~</p>
<p>June 22nd, 1998</p>
<p>“On time,” Hermione hears Draco say as she walks into the log cabin.</p>
<p>Hermione is surprised to see the Slytherin as he had been just leaving black envelopes on the table for her in the weeks before.</p>
<p>“Fancy seeing you here,” Hermione responds, placing her red envelope on the table.</p>
<p>“Yes, well, I can’t stay rid of you forever,” Draco says with a chuckle.</p>
<p>Draco grabs the red envelope off of the table, exchanging it with a black one. With his gloved hand he tears open the envelope to read it’s contents.</p>
<p>“Ah, a skirmish planned for next week. The Dark Lord will love to hear of this news. Your bloody Order has been at a stalemate for weeks.”</p>
<p>“It’s not my Order anymore,” Hermione says under her breath.</p>
<p>“What was that, Granger?” Draco asks, his eyes staring into hers.</p>
<p>“Nothing,” the witch quickly says before stepping towards him. She wants him to test her occlumency then leave. Hermione does <em>not</em> want a repeat performance of the last time when they were together.</p>
<p>Draco stands towards the witch and cups her face in his hands. He stares his grey eyes into her bronze ones and breaks through to her thoughts.</p>
<p>Hermione’s mind is only focused on one thing: her sunflower field. The thought is so strong that she even forgets that Draco is trying to read her mind. Nothing else crosses paths with her thoughts and Draco’s insentent poking and prodding does little to damage her field.</p>
<p>Draco pulls away from the witch and Hermione is left in a trance. She doesn’t relise that Draco’s gloved hands have left her face, she doesn’t realize that her mark is burning, the flesh around it turning red.</p>
<p>Hermione doesn’t hear Draco’s shouts for her to snap out of it. It is all but a numbing bliss in her mind. Kilometers, among kilometers of tall yellow flowers is all she can think, see, and feel.</p>
<p>~</p>
<p>June 27th, 1998</p>
<p>“Miss Granger,” Snape says from Hermione’s door.</p>
<p>The witch whips her head around to see the black haired man staring at her.</p>
<p>“Yes?”</p>
<p>“I have an order for you.”</p>
<p>Snape didn’t even have to say who the order was from for her to know exactly what is was for. Hermione nods her head for Snape to enter and as he does he shuts the door and mutters a silencing charm over the room.</p>
<p>“The Dark Lord is requesting your presence at Malfoy Manor for a dinner party tonight.”</p>
<p>“<em>Tonight</em>?”</p>
<p>“Yes, it has all been sorted out. Miss Parkinson will arrive here at 6:30 to help get you ready and the rest of The Order has been notified that you are going out on a mission.”</p>
<p>“You mean Pansy is helping me get ready?” Hermione scoffs, starting to pace around her room.</p>
<p>“That’s your only concern with all of this?” Snape snaps at the witch.</p>
<p>“What else is there to be concerned with? I’m regarded on a pedestal by you Death Eaters.”</p>
<p>“Not by all of <em>us</em> Death Eaters. The whole Dark Lords inner circle will be there, and many of the older members are not fond of a mudblood taking the reigns.”</p>
<p>Hermione sighs and paces around her room a bit more. Snape gives the witch a nod and leaves her room.</p>
<p>Hermione keeps the silencing charm up and checks the time on her wand, 6:00 pm.</p>
<p>~</p>
<p>“We only have an hour and a half, let’s get a move on,” Hermione hears Pansy say as she apperates into the Gryffindor’s room with a <em>crack</em>.</p>
<p>Pansy sets down her array of beauty tools: brushes, blushes, and wands. Pansy takes Hermione into the bathroom, the black haired witch switches the lamps to be a clear color. Hermione hears her say it’s best to have natural light, not the colored nonsense.</p>
<p>Pansy conjures a chair for Hermione, and she takes a seat. The chair is a black-leather piece that reminds her of styling chairs in the muggle world. Chairs that she remembers she would sit in to get her hair cut before she figured out that you can do it with a wand.</p>
<p>“I’ve got a few dress options for you, so let’s try those first before hair and makeup,” Pansy says, as she takes out three dresses on hangers.</p>
<p>“Oh, thank you,” Hermione says, turning around in her chair to see the dresses Pansy has brought.</p>
<p>Hermione sees a black dress, a Prussian blue dress, and a gold dress. The black dress is a satin, off the shoulder number with a slight train. The Prussian blue dress has a spaghetti-strap, triangle top, with a light tulle overlay on the A-line skirt. Lastly, the red dress is a fitted, one shoulder style, satin gown.</p>
<p>“Do you see one you’d like to try first?” Pansy asks Hermione as she eyes the bundles of fabric.</p>
<p>Hermione's eyes are glued to the Prussian blue dress, it reminds her of the dress she wore in fourth year to the Yule Ball. Oh, how the witch wished this was her getting ready for a Yule Ball, but instead she has Pansy Parkinson doing her hair and makeup to meet up with Voldemort’s fellow Death Eaters.</p>
<p>“The blue one looks nice,” Hermione says, pointing to the spaghetti-strap number.</p>
<p>Pansy smiles and places the other dresses back down, taking Hermione’s pick off of the hanger and handing it to her.</p>
<p>“I’ll leave for a minute, let me know if you need help zipping the back.” And as Pansy says that, she walks out of the bathroom, leaving Hermione and a Prussian blue dress.</p>
<p>Hermione stares at the garment in her hand. The silky-soft feel of the satin and the slight roughness of the tulle caresses her fingers as she goes to undo the zipper. The witch shrugs off her current attire before slipping into the Prussian blue gown.</p>
<p>Hermione takes the straps and pulls them up to her shoulders, placing her arms through the loops. The dress hangs off of her body, the unzipped portion flapping to the sides. As Hermione stares in the mirror at her reflection, she catches her lips as they curl into a smile.</p>
<p>Still staring at her reflection, Hermione reaches her hands behind her, grasping the metal zipper with one hand and holding the dress taught with the other. She pulls at the zipper and it glides up her back effortlessly. As the zipper closes the gap in between her spine, the dress forms to her figure.</p>
<p>Her waist is carved out and hips accentuated as the garment lays over her form. The dress fits her perfectly—just like a glove. In the mirror she swishes the skirt of her dress, the satin rustling against itself. She even does a twirl, the hem of the skirt creeping up off the floor. As Hermione takes a look in the mirror one last time, she sees a look of genuine joy on her face.</p>
<p>The witch can’t remember the last time she truly smiled, not giving a fake one to satisfy others. She feels like one of those muggle princesses in her Prussian blue gown. Getting primped and prepared for a ball by maids, only in this case it’s Pansy Parkinson, who, Hermione thinks, doesn’t do much housework.</p>
<p>“Do you need any help?” Hermione hears Pansy say from outside the door.</p>
<p>Hermione gives one last smile in the mirror before turning her thoughts blank with her sunflower field. She reaches the handle of the bathroom door and opens it to see Pansy.</p>
<p>“Merlin, that blue is <em>gorgeous</em> on you,” Pansy says to the witch, motioning for her to spin.</p>
<p>Hermione twirls in the dress before Pansy ushers the pair back into the bathroom.</p>
<p>“Do you want to try any of the other dresses?”</p>
<p>“No, this one's perfect,” Hermione says as she takes a seat in the black-leather styling chair.</p>
<p>Pansy grabs her wand and applies a moisturizer to Hermione’s face. She hadn’t realized how dry and cracked her skin had become. The Orders rations really weren’t spent on beauty products and Hermione’s mind was usually elsewhere than her flaking complexion.</p>
<p>“I’ll let you keep this as your skin <em>really</em> could use it more than mine. Does this Order know anything of personal care?” Pansy says, muttering the last bit under her breath.</p>
<p>Hermione just stares into the mirror as Pansy gets to work. The Golden Girl overhears the black haired witch muttering and humming to herself as she futzes with Hermione’s hair and skin. Hermione sees her hair flop up and down multiple times as Pansy decides what style would look best.</p>
<p>Once Pansy decided on a tamed, lightly curled look, she focused on Hermione’s face.</p>
<p>“Hmm…” Pansy starts, digging her tongue into her cheek, “No, I think that’ll be okay.”</p>
<p>And as Pansy says that, she mutters an incantation and waves her wand around Hermione’s face. When Pansy moved out from in front of her, Hermione saw the makeup charm she just applied. It was light, the witch only detecting mascara, blush, and a light lip gloss.</p>
<p>“Fuck. C’mon let’s go, it’s 8:45, you do <em>not</em> want to be late for your first dinner with The Dark Lord,” Pansy says, taking Hermione’s hand and apparating them to Malfoy Manor.</p>
<p>Hermione feels her heels hit the ground again and Pansy tugs at her arm. “Come on!” Pansy seethes.</p>
<p>Hermione looks up to her and begins walking towards the manor’s front door. Hermione focuses her thoughts on her sunflower field, not wanting to show any weakness in front of Voldemort. The witch hopes her occlumency skills hold, otherwise she will be an emotional mess if her thoughts begin to slip.</p>
<p>Once the pair reach the front door, Pansy knocks with the silver snake knocker. The knocker is beautifully crafted. The snake has two bright emerald eyes with a shining silver body. The knocker looks as though it has never been used with how pristine of a condition it is in.</p>
<p>“Ah, yes. The guest of honor has arrived!” Hermione hears Roldolphus Lestrange say as he opens the door.</p>
<p>“Am I not a guest of honor?” Pansy jeers as she steps inside Malfoy Manor.</p>
<p>“No, I’m afraid to say your not, Miss Parkinson,” Rodolphus smiles.</p>
<p>Pansy scowls and Hermione steps inside. She sees walls of black and charcoal grey. The entirety of the manor seems to be covered in the same colors as the guest room.</p>
<p>The guest room.</p>
<p>Hermione’s thoughts slip for a moment from her numbing field to the last time she was at Malfoy Manor. Draco taking care of her. Those luxurious sheets. The impeccable scones. And, lastly, her favorite tea. Hermione wonders where Draco is, she would surely rather be by him than Pansy.</p>
<p>She frantically searches around the room for a flash of blonde. She didn’t realize until now, but they are in the drawing room. The room where it all began two months ago. It may have only been two months, but it has felt like a lifetime to Hermione.</p>
<p>As her eyes scan the room she see’s Bellatrix. Hermione feels a tear well up in her eye at the thought of that witch. One that, Hermione feels, doesn’t deserve Voldemort’s loyalty. What has she done to help? All she does is torture people until any information they had has turned into insanity.</p>
<p>Hermione brings her hand up to her face, wiping the lone tear before turning her thoughts back to her sunflower field. She can’t be caught thinking like this. The Order is the true organization she wants to help, but she can’t help but feel gravitated to the Death Eaters.</p>
<p>They have her on a pedestal. They want her. They need her. They praise her.</p>
<p>All The Order does is ask her if she’s okay and then get upset when she tells them she’s fine. She knows they mean well, but after a point it gets tiring. She doesn’t have to pretend around Voldemort and his followers.</p>
<p>A flash of blonde catches Hermione’s eye and she whips her head towards the sight.</p>
<p>There he is.</p>
<p>Draco Malfoy.</p>
<p>Imperial Legatus to Voldemort.</p>
<p>Hermione strides her way over to him, leaving Pansy talking with Merlin knows who. She shuffles her way through the crowd, avoiding the butlers serving hors d’œuvres and champagne. As she passes many witches and wizards she feels her choice of dress was a little too, <em>out there</em>. All the guests are either decked in black or some form of grey, even Pansy is in a sleek black gown.</p>
<p>As she thinks on it though, it is perfect. She was called “<em>the guest of honor</em>” so it’s only fitting she has the most out there dress to play the part.</p>
<p>“Granger,” Draco’s smooth voice says as Hermione approaches him.</p>
<p>“Malfoy.”</p>
<p>“I hear you are the guest of honor tonight,” Draco smirks.</p>
<p>“I’ve heard the same thing,” Hermione smiles.</p>
<p>“Would you like a glass?” a butler in white robes asks.</p>
<p>Hermione turns to Draco and he takes a glass from the tray. Hermione eyes him and takes her own glass. They both say polite thank you’s to the man and he is onto the next guest.</p>
<p>“What should we cheers too?” Draco queries, arching his brow.</p>
<p>“A night away from <em>them</em>.”</p>
<p>“Are they that bloody annoying?”</p>
<p>“Even more so. Let’s drink.”</p>
<p>As Hermione finishes her sentence, she and Draco clank their glasses together and down the contents. A butler appears and they set their finished glasses on the tray before taking another. Hermione is surprised by her own will to drink. She rarely does anymore, not that she did much before, but she isn’t one to get drunk to forget.</p>
<p>She decides to zone back into her sunflower field before she downs a second glass and slips up her words or emotions. Tall, yellow flowers for kilometers and kilometers. A bright, yellow sun and a crisp blue sky.</p>
<p>“Hermione?” she is brought out of her daze as her first name is called. She curses herself for getting too lost in her occlumency. The witch still needs work on her occlumency skills whilst interacting with others.</p>
<p>“Yes?”</p>
<p>“The Dark Lord isn’t going to read your mind tonight, you can keep away the flowers or whatever,” Draco says to her.</p>
<p>Hermione looks up at him and gives a light smile. She slowly puts away her field, not wanting to trigger an emotional meltdown like last time. Once her thoughts are far from her field she speaks again.</p>
<p>“Oh, umm. Thank you?”</p>
<p>“Yes, thank you would be the proper response,” Draco chuckles.</p>
<p>“Eh hem.”</p>
<p>Hermione and Draco turn to the new sound of Voldemort clearing his throat. She sees that he has his wand pressed against his neck, using an amplifying charm.</p>
<p>“Thank you all for coming. Tonight is a night of welcome to our newest member—Hermione Granger.”</p>
<p>Hermione’s eyes widen in shock as the whole crowd turns from Voldemort to the girl in the Prussian blue dress. She quickly calms her face and gives a light smile to the crowd as they clap.</p>
<p>“Now,” Voldemort starts, the crowd turning from Hermione back to him. “You all know of our winning streak against The Order.”</p>
<p>The crowd cheers before Voldemort resumes his speech. “That is all thanks to the precious mudblood. Now, I expect you all to behave. I highly doubt the mudblood would be unwilling to crucio on the spot, shall she be challenged.”</p>
<p>Hermione laughs to herself at Voldemort’s words. She highly doubted it would come to that point, but if Bellatrix got in her way, she wouldn’t mind using the unforgivable.</p>
<p>“Let’s all head to the dining room for dinner, do thank the Malfoy’s for their hospitality if you see them.”</p>
<p>As Voldemort ends his speech the crowd claps and cheers as they wander to the dining room.</p>
<p>“Thank you for your hospitality,” Hermione jeers to Draco.</p>
<p>“Why, it's my pleasure,” he sarcastically says back.</p>
<p>They both chuckle before they arrive in the dining room. Hermione sees that there are assigned seats. She looks around the table til one of the chairs lights up. She walks over to it, and seeing her name on the card in front of it, she takes a seat.</p>
<p>Hermione is sat in between the Malfoy family. Narcissa and Lucius to her left, and Draco to her right. She turns towards Narcissa and the witch gives a delicate smile. Hermione returns one before focusing her vision on all the other guests. She sees at least thirty people seated.</p>
<p>She expected dinner to have maybe fifteen members, but she guesses that Voldemort’s inner circle is larger than she originally thought. As she roams her eyes over the faces of the other guests she catches some of them glaring at her. Dolohov sends her a wicked grin and Rabastan scowls at her.</p>
<p>Hermione keeps a polite smile planted on her face and turns towards Draco to see the other end of the table. She doesn’t recognize any of those Death Eaters, but comes to think that she will be acquainted with them very soon. She turns her eyes to Draco’s and he gives a polite smile to her before Voldemort is speaking again.</p>
<p>“Lucius?”</p>
<p>Lucius nods and with a snap of his fingers butlers come filing in, placing dishes in front of each guest.</p>
<p>The dinner and dessert go over without a hitch. Polite conversation is exchanged between her and the Malfoy’s as well as Rodolphus, who is seated across from her. After the meal is finished, Voldemort signals to the guests to move back into the drawing room.</p>
<p>Hermione trails Draco to the room, not knowing her own way. Once inside she sees that the decor has changed. The room has been flipped into a sort of ballroom. She is surprised at how fancy Voldemort’s ‘dinners’ are. They feel more like an upscale party than just a dinner.</p>
<p>There is orchestra music playing, but Hermione cannot discern from where. She ventures to guess that there is some enchantment being used. She huddles by Draco’s side, not really wanting to mingle with the other guests.</p>
<p>“Since I don’t see myself getting away from you, would you like to dance?” Draco asks, motioning towards the gathering of couples on the ballroom floor.</p>
<p>“I—I don’t know how to dance,” Hermione shyly admits. As much as she would love to be in the arms of Draco, she would end up stepping on his toes and be out of his arms very quickly.</p>
<p>“Well, maybe that is something I can teach you,” he smirks.</p>
<p>“I would like that,” Hermione smiles.</p>
<p>Draco nods and as he does a butler appears in front of them with a tray of champagne again. They each take a glass and go about the night exchanging small talk. As the clock sounds for midnight Hermione realizes how much time she has lost. She quickly says her goodbyes, Draco saying that she could stay at the Manor if she would like.</p>
<p>Hermione declines his offer, as she bets The Order is suspicious of her whereabouts. As she reaches the front doors she is stopped by Rabastan.</p>
<p>“What are you doing leaving so early?” Rabastan drawls, covering the front door.</p>
<p>“I—um—well, don’t want to have my cover blown,” Hermione says, trying to stare past Rabastan.</p>
<p>“Oh, I’m sure that is not an issue, mudblood,” Rabastan says with a smirk.</p>
<p>Hermione feels her hands dampen as her nerves are set off. She quickly takes a breath before answering, trying to seem as unaffected as she can.</p>
<p>“It’s late and I should be going,” Hermione says as she tries to walk past Rabastan.</p>
<p>His hand darts out to her waist and flips her back to the door, his wand presses against her throat. “It would serve you well to take orders from your superiors.”</p>
<p>Hermione’s thoughts are jammed. A million thoughts of what might happen race across her mind as her face contorts in fear. She doesn’t bother hiding it anymore, but tries to level her voice.</p>
<p>“I am your superior,” Hermione chokes out.</p>
<p>“Right now, it seems to be the other way around. All it would take is for the two word incantation to slip out of my mouth and you would turn to a lifeless heap on the floor”</p>
<p>“Hey! What the fuck are you doing?” Hermione hears someone shout. She hears the sounds of the ballroom cease as Rabastian is ripped off of her and a flash of blonde crosses her vision.</p>
<p>Draco.</p>
<p>“Wait till The Dark Lord hears of this Rabastan. I think he will even let her crucio you for him,” Draco says as he drags Rabastan away, leaving Hermione frozen to the door.</p>
<p>“What is all the commotion?” Hermione hears Voldemort drawl as his form floats into the front hall.</p>
<p>“Rabastan here tried to corner the Golden Girl,” Draco says, holding Rabastian in a headlock.</p>
<p>“Rabastian, what did I tell you?” Voldemort asks as he approaches the man.</p>
<p>“Not—to mess with the mudblood.”</p>
<p>“And what did you do?”</p>
<p>“Mess with the mudblood. Sir, she started it—AH!”</p>
<p>And as Rabastan tries to finish his thought he is hit with the cruciatus curse, the only thing is, it wasn’t shot by Voldemort.</p>
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